Alternative
by XxMidnightWolfxX
Summary: It took one fatal mistake to wipe Danny Phantom out of existence. After 3 yrs without him, Sam is given the chance to undo a terribly altered past. But what'll happen when he finally returns ... and she mistakes him for the enemy?
1. Failed Experiment

Hello to all of my readers (old and new). For those of you who have read my profile xxmidnightwolfxx. net), you should have an idea of what this fic is about. For those of you who didn't . . .

**Summary:** Three years into the future, Sam is still haunted by the memory of May 5th. With Danny Phantom's sudden disappearance, she has no choice but to protect Amity Park from the paranormal, but little does she know that she's about to come face-to-face with the same ghost that ruined her life in more ways than he knew. Sworn to revenge, she prepares to take him on, but what happens when Clockwork tells her that The Fatality was never meant to happen? Now it's up to her to set things right and make sure they all return in the past that was supposed to be — and nothing is going to stand in her way. (Action, Drama, Suspense, Mystery, etc)

**Quick Note: **_Please bear with me; this chapter is extremely short and might not be very interesting (I guess it all depends on your opinions), but it is one of the most important chapts of the entire story since it basically leads into everything else._

_All right, I'll stop wasting your time. Please review if you like it. Thank you! _**-XxMW**

**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Danny Phantom — I'm not that much of a genius. Thank you Butch and staff for bringing DP to Nickelodeon (those crazy pple who are trying to get rid of it, despite the fact that it's one of the only few shows actually worth watching) Anywho . . ._

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**Alternative**

Chapt 1- Failed Experiment

An eerie silence spread throughout the darkened room as a brightly colored light continually appeared and disappeared on the wall. The laboratory was vacant except for the one figure working attentively at a long table. His only source of light was coming from the glowing tubes containing various shades of ectoplasmic energy and chemicals.

He lifted one of the tubes carefully and examined it. Then, making sure it was labeled correctly, poured half of the liquid into a beaker. The yellow contents mixed with the blue and formed a bubbling green goo. The man raised a brow at the color and began searching through the rest of his tubes.

After months of being defeated repeatedly, he wasn't going to stand it anymore. How could a man with twenty years of ghostly training suddenly fall so weak at the hands of a fourteen year old?

"_Not anymore_," he whispered angrily. He was going to become stronger no matter what it took. Consequences didn't matter to him anymore. This experiment, if carried out correctly, was going to enhance his powers far more than he could ever hope to achieve on his own. Just one more thing left to do. . .

The shadowed man located a tube of red ectoplasm behind several others. Just before he reached it, however, the gooey substance in the beaker bubbled again and squirted green liquid on him. He jumped back in disgust and wiped his chin. It began to bubble again and he quickly reached out for the last ingredient.

However, in his haste, he ended up grabbing the wrong one and poured it in. The mixture sizzled and then became a blood red color — a little darker than he would've expected, but it didn't matter.

"Vlad Masters, you are such a _genius_," the so called _Vlad_ said to himself. He stood up and raised the beaker before his lips to take a sip. At first, it sent a shiver down his spine, but he shook it off and drank the rest.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. He looked through his notes and reread all of the ingredients.

"It should've worked!" he said angrily. Then suddenly, a sharp pain went through him and he screamed, dropping both the pages and the empty beaker. It shattered on the floor and he fell to his knees beside it, holding his head.

"I . . . wha—? RAH!"

Another painful jolt spread through him and he cringed, shuffling through the scattered papers to find out what went wrong. But as he was searching, the pages became blurry and the words blended together. His eyes were turning a dark shade of red and he ground his teeth in pain.

Slowly, he was losing control over his body _and_ mind. There was a flash of light as two rings formed around his waist and transformed him into his alter ego.

Plasmius' cry of pain suddenly turned into a cry of rage and his muscles began expanding. He was losing all mentality to his growing powers. Two red beams shot out of each one of his palms and destroyed the remaining test tubes, as well as the wall behind them.

"No," Vlad muttered through clenched teeth. He wasn't going to lose control of his mind to his own powers. After a great amount of effort and struggle, he approached the largest and most conspicuous device in the room — the ghost portal. Attached to it was another smaller device he had recently created and was still trying to figure out; one that could alter time and bring him back as far as five minutes — or at least he thought.

The pale and mutated ghost reached out a hand very shakily and began pressing buttons in sequence. Just before he reached the last one, a final shock went through him. His shout echoed through the nearly empty room as his last amount of self control slipped away and his new darker side took over.

A bright light filled the laboratory and nearly blinded him. It was the last thing he saw before he was pulled into it. Only then had he realized that he had accidentally altered the time line and was now lost in the time stream . . . with absolutely no control over his powers or what was happening.

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_Okay, very important chapter, though not one of my best. I'll have Chapter 2 updated shortly. That's where the tension and real problems begin. Once again, please review — I would love and appreciate it. _

_For more information on Alternative, check out my profile for details (on the bottom is where I keep my story info). _

_And I would like to thank all of the supporters of Fading Remembrance and Amity's Hero. Thanks guys! The motivation is this story's greatest success and the dedication is to you!_

**-XxMW**

Chapter 2: It was supposed to be just a regular day at the movies. They never expected it to way it had.


	2. The Fatality

This was a very quick update. I had to make it up to you guys. I know chapter one wasn't the most interesting. Thanks to my reviewers: **V1rg1n1a, JK rulez, The Adversary, Horselvr4vr12, bearerofthegoldenhorn**

**Quick Note:** I have a forum . . . http/ www. Fanfiction. net/f/712607/ for anyone who wants to check it out. It's basically just a forum for people to talk about their fanfictions (or just fictions), put up sneak peeks, discuss ideas, create fics together (though not to be posted on the forum), or discuss other people's work.

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**Alternative**

Chapt 2- The Fatality

The golden rays of sun peeked in through the open window and illuminated the darkly decorated room. A sleepy figure moved around in her bed, pulling the sheets over her head to preserve the darkness.

"Rise and shine, dear!" a feminine voice called across the room. She was standing by the window, listening to the birds chirp. Sam groaned and put her bat-shaped pillow over her head.

"Why must you always do this?" she mumbled.

"Do what? Allow a little sunlight into your room? What's so bad about that?" her mother asked defensively.

"I'm a Goth," her daughter replied groggily. Mrs. Manson frowned and walked over to her. She sat down at the edge of the bed and pulled the pillow away, only to see a blanket.

"Sammykins, a new day has begun. Don't you have any plans other than to lie in bed for two hours straight?"

"I just woke up," Sam responded sounding very annoyed.

"Then who did I hear blasting music at seven o'clock in the morning?"

"That was my alarm clock," the sleepy girl mumbled. Nevertheless, she threw her blanket aside and stood up. There were better ways to start the morning than by arguing with her mother. It was a battle she just couldn't win.

"Go wash up and come downstairs. I made pancakes."

"Joy," Sam replied carelessly as she made her way to the bathroom. She stopped, however, when she saw the calendar on her door. Her eyes widened with realization and her spirits suddenly rose. Today was May 5th. She, Danny, and Tucker were going to see the new movie, _Lurking in the Shadows_, after about five weeks of anxious anticipation.

When she finished getting ready, she slid down the stair rail and sprinted across the room. She didn't get too far when a man called out to her.

"Hold it, Sam. What's the rush? You haven't even eaten breakfast yet."

"I'm not hungry," the Goth said quickly as a blonde man entered the room wearing very old fashioned clothing — a sweater vest with blue and yellow checker designs and out of style brown pants. His hair was gelled back neatly in a very unfashionable way. Overall, he seemed like the average peace-loving neighbor everyone was always so fond of. He was her father, no matter how many doubts she had.

"What's the rush?" an old woman asked, riding into the kitchen on what looked like a motorized scooter.

"I'm meeting Danny and Tucker today," Sam said to her grandmother, finally thankful to see someone normal — by her definition anyway.

"Not without eating breakfast, you're not," her father ordered, handing her a plate.

"Great, I'll take it to go," she said quickly, grabbing a pancake and setting the rest on the table. Before he could respond, she dashed to the door and ran out, leaving it to close on its own.

After running several blocks, Danny's house finally came into view. He stepped out onto the steps and closed the door behind him.

"Hey Sam!" he called out, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. Sam slowed down and stopped beside him as he dialed Tucker's number.

"Come on," the darkly dressed girl urged, pulling at her best friend's arm as he put his phone to his ear. He raised a brow at her and she sighed.

"My parents . . ."

That seemed to have answered enough. Danny mouthed _"Oh"_ and allowed her to drag him across the street.

"Tucker, it's Danny," he said after a few seconds of waiting. "I'm with Sam. Where are you?"

"Right behind you," Tucker replied, startling them. They turned around and, sure enough, a dark skinned boy of their age wearing his trademark red beret was running up to them. He stepped between the two and wrapped an arm around them.

"I can't believe it. Five weeks of waiting and the day has finally arrived. And the best part of it is that we don't have to wait until 4:00 to see it."

"Yeah, thanks about that," Sam said to Danny, who smiled and shrugged. She was referring to that little "accident" in the chemistry lab the previous day. After about a week without ghost fighting, Danny decided to use his powers against the teacher when he was performing the proper sequence of chemicals for the class. Needless to say, it did not end well.

The professor ended up with burns and a disgusting facial rash, but nothing too serious. Everyone was evacuated and the school was closed until further notice. Rumors were already going around about a ghost attack, but the staff silenced it and said that it was just a little accident and they would need to clean out the school during the weekend.

"Don't mention it," the mischievous boy replied, recalling how many times that teacher had given him problems for constantly dropping beakers during his first month of ghost powers. He never ceased putting the spotlight on Danny and cracking jokes about his clumsiness.

"Uh, not to be random or anything, but you _do_ know that the movie doesn't start until ten right?" Tucker added.

"Yep," Sam replied. "It gives us an hour to get there, grab our tickets, snacks, and get the best seats. Not to mention that we have about twenty minutes of walking. And what better way to pass the time than to chat about random things and reminisce?"

"About what exactly?" Danny asked.

"Your ghost problems," Sam replied. "It's been a whole week and you haven't had one ghost attack. That's got to be a new record."

Danny and Tucker both laughed and nodded in agreement.

"It's nice, but to tell you the truth, with my schedule finally opening up so much, I've been getting bored a lot quicker. There isn't much to do anymore. It'd be kinda nice to have a little practice every now and then."

"Dude, don't jinx it," Tucker said immediately as the three crossed the street and walked down the next block.

"I doubt one's just gonna spring up out of nowhere and attack us at the movies," Sam told him, but he still seemed unsure.

"And yet, that's what always seems to happen . . ."

"So, when are we going to the Dumpty Humpty concert?" Danny asked, changing the subject randomly.

"I'm thinking next week," Sam replied. "I'm going to get the tickets today."

"Sounds good. Let's just keep out of trouble until then. I haven't been grounded since last week and I plan to keep it that way," Danny said, stopping to let the cars pass by before they crossed onto the next block and made a turn.

"Your parents must be so bored now that they don't have to babysit you," the Goth teased. He smiled and looked up.

"It's a nice day . . ."

"Man, how many times are you gonna change the topic, Danny?" Tucker asked.

"Sorry, I just haven't seen many days like this. Usually our weekends are—"

His voice trailed off and he stopped walking. Sam and Tucker looked back at him questioningly, but he had his gaze toward the sky. They looked up as well. Tucker paled.

A beautiful light gleamed above one of the clouds — almost like a star in the night. The bright rays of the sun reflected upon it and it shone brighter, adding more to its stunning appearance. But something wasn't right. It was too early for stars. They squinted their eyes to see better. Other passerby stopped what they were doing to look up at the beautiful sight. Waves of light energy were revolving around it.

Then suddenly, it expanded and began spinning as well, opening what seemed like a purple-red vortex. It resembled a hideous black and blue mixed with red — a bruise in the sky. The teens made a face of disgust at the sudden change of appearance, but their curiosity kept their eyes fixed on the swirling colors.

Everyone else, however, knew well enough not to stick around during paranormal phenomena — especially not in Amity Park. People began running across the street, calling their loved ones. Before long, panicked shouts filled the streets of Amity Park, but Danny, Sam, and Tucker ignored them.

"What the heck is that?" Danny asked. Tucker pulled his gaze away and grabbed their arms.

"Come on guys, I have a bad feeling about that thing."

"So much for the movie," Sam said disappointedly, but she couldn't help but feel that something was wrong. Growing steadily uneasy about the strange and sudden vortex, she allowed Tucker to steer her away, but Danny remained still.

"I'm gonna go check it out," he said, but she pulled him back and he lost his concentration.

"No, Danny. I think Tucker's right. Come on."

He nodded hesitantly and, still reluctant, began to run with them until a loud roar echoed through the skies, sending shivers through his body. He looked back at the sky and gasped.

A large and muscular figure had emerged from the swirling purple-red vortex. He seemed to be struggling with something. Whatever it was, Danny wasn't willing to wait and find out. The ghost had begun firing aimless blasts . . . powerful ones too. One red beam knocked down two buildings at once. People screamed in fright and began rushing out of the way.

Others were abandoning their cars and doing the same as more beams of ectoplasmic energy began showering the streets.

"What the heck is he doing?" Tucker asked.

"I don't think even he knows," Sam replied, noticing the ghost under pressure, constantly contorting his face in pain. He wasn't targeting Amity Park. They were just unfortunate enough to be in his way. But where did he come from, and how?

"I don't know what's going on, but he's not staying here. Cover me," Danny called to them as he ran behind a tree. They looked around to make sure no was watching. There was a flash of light and he emerged as Danny Phantom.

"Danny, wait!" Sam called, running forward to grab his arm before he took off. He turned back to her.

"I'm really concerned now," she said. "We have to go."

"I can't," Danny replied simply, phasing out of her grasp. She looked at him worriedly and he returned an apologetic look. "Stay with Tucker. I'll be right back," he assured.

She remained still as he flew off. Tucker ran beside her. Her face was becoming pale with fright. Something _definitely_ seemed wrong, and she had to follow that instinct.

"Just let him go," he said to her, noticing her grave expression. "He'll finish him off and we can—"

Before he could finish, Sam took off at a run to follow the halfa.

"Sam!" her friend shouted from behind, but she ignored him and continued running, jumping over the debris from the fallen homes. She was going to help him whether he liked it or not.

Danny stopped flying when he was about ten feet away from the mysterious ghost. However, it did not notice him and continued firing blasts of ectoplasm carelessly. He seemed to be enraged about something.

"Can I help you?" the halfa asked, catching his awareness. He turned his attention to the teenage boy and stopped what he was doing. Something about him seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it.

Danny took the chance to fire a ghost ray at him. It made a direct hit, but the ghoul didn't seem to feel a thing. He tried again, but each blast merely pushed him back a little.

"Okay . . ." he muttered to himself. "This might be a little harder than I thought."

Suddenly, the ghost stretched out a hand and created a rectangular red light. He swung it into him and knocked him sideways. Danny collided with the wall of a tall burgundy colored building and shook his head. It took a while before his vision cleared.

But that gave his erratic rival enough time to attack again. He aimed a punch and Danny quickly spun over to the side. The fist missed by less than an inch and he took the chance to get out of the way.

He didn't get far though when something wrapped around his ankle and sent him into the building again. He cried out in agony and rubbed his arm. His opponent closed a massive hand around his throat and pinned him to the wall.

"What do you want?" he choked, but the ghost did not reply. Instead, he shut his eyes tightly and then opened them again. Danny blinked several times. Something strange was going on.

He focused on intangibility, but as soon as he was about to phase through his rival's grasp, a painful shock went through him. He screamed again and became tangible. The ghost clenched his teeth (Danny noticed two sharp fangs) and tightened his grip.

"What do you want with me?" Danny yelled, steadily getting angrier. When he received no reply, he emitted two green blasts from his eyes. They hit the specter in the face and he pulled away.

Danny flew out of the way and created another blast from his hands. Allowing his anger to power his attack, he released it on his enemy ten times stronger than his previous one.

It made contact with the anonymous specter and, in turn, threw him into the same burgundy building he had pinned to. Danny continued firing repeatedly, hitting his rival each time. After each hit, the blasts became stronger as his frustration grew.

The ghost's vivid red eyes narrowed and he created a barrier, reflecting the last few attacks. Danny evaded the repelled beams and then turned his attention back to his opponent, but he seemed to be focusing on something else.

It was all coming back to him. The familiarity of always having the outcome of the battle turn against him. He was falling weak once again at the hands of a child. The ghost recalled an experiment. Pain beyond anything he had ever imagined, and it was all because of a certain fourteen year old boy . . .

"_Danny Phantom_," he snarled furiously. Danny's rage subsided and he was taken aback.

"How . . . how do you know me?"

The ghost did not respond. Instead, he ground his teeth and emitted two red flames from his hands. Danny glanced at them and then back into the face of his rival. His eyes widened in shock and he let out a gasp.

"Plasmius?"

The ghost seemed to have stopped struggling now that both parts of his mind, the dominant and the weaker, focused on one goal rather than trying to fight each other. He raised his hand while Danny was distracted and was about to fire when a girl interrupted.

"Danny!" she yelled, knocking him out of his thoughts. He noticed the pink energy before him and created a shield immediately. The blast, however, was too powerful and ended up throwing him back anyway. He managed to block the worst of the attack but landed painfully on the rugged surface of the cemented sidewalk.

Plasmius' mind, now steadily becoming more and more unstable, focused on the distraction and spotted a Goth girl running towards the fallen halfa. His eyes flashed dangerously and he raised his head back and roared with rage. She stopped in her tracks and looked up just in time to see a dark red flash that began to materialize into a massive blast. An invisible force pulled her off her feet and she let out a frightened gasp.

Sam was petrified now, completely unable to move her body as the immense energy advanced towards her. She could feel her skin beginning to burn and stared transfixed as it slowly came nearer, blocking everything else from view. All noise stopped around her and she heard several loud beats before she realized it was her heart. A faint cry reached her ears and gradually became louder. She could feel an ache in her throat, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get it to go away. Someone was screaming. It was an earsplitting cry. Beyond that shout was another, though this one seemed to be calling her name.

Her eyes widened and she grasped her throat. Suddenly, something rushed into her from the side and pushed her with incredible force. She felt a powerful jolt and gasped. The red light was slowly becoming distant, but there was another figure in front of it now. Before she could let out another gasp, something hard hit her back and she gritted her teeth in agony, but the rush of wind was no longer pushing her down. She had reached the ground and was out of harm's away, but he wasn't.

The Goth tried getting to her feet, but was knocked back down before she had a chance. The massive light now reflected upon the surroundings, turning most of Amity Park into a dark shade of crimson. Another cry reached her ears and this time, she was the second voice.

"DAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNYYYYYY!" she yelled, unaware that she had reached out a hand in hopes of reaching him.

Danny shut his eyes and screamed louder than ever as the fatal blast engulfed him, tearing him apart from the inside. He could not break free and there was no one to help him now. . .

"_DANNY !"_

He opened his eyes just barely in response to the voice, but it was too far and he could not recognize who it belonged to. It seemed so familiar, and yet so distant. He stretched out his arms as the force pushed him back. It was the last thing he heard before closing his eyes, permitting the blaze of red light to overwhelm him.

_Sam . . ._

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Tears were falling continually as her cry faded away. Thick smoke was now polluting the air, slowly being carried away by the breeze. There was nothing left — the only figure visible within it had disappeared with one last cry, and she saw it all. Sam slowly lowered her hand, having received no response to her desperate shout. Her lip quavered and she shut her eyes, hoping it would go away — the memory of what had just happened —that she would wake up any second and find herself still in bed.

But it wasn't a nightmare. And she couldn't do anything now.

Tucker's footsteps caught the girl's attention and she jerked her head up. He dropped down to his knees beside her and pulled her into a tight embrace, muttering words of doubt. He was trembling, probably hoping, like she was, that what they saw was just a hallucination. His face had become very pale. Sam looked up at the sky, her vision was blurred from the tears, but she could make out that tremendous amount of smoke. Just above it was a darkened figure. He turned around and disappeared, but she was only able to see a distorted purple light. It, too, faded away.

Her eyes narrowed in anger and her face showed a look of pure loathing. He was gone . . . just like that he was gone. She hadn't even had a chance to figure out what had happened. All the Goth could make out was a red flash of light; he was trapped within it. With one last shout, he had disappeared into it, fading away like everything else above them.

But there was only one "person" to blame for it all. She was going to get even, no matter the consequences.

The smoke began to clear, leaving a very gloomy atmosphere. There was nothing . . . nothing at all. And there was no denying it anymore.

He wasn't coming back.

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_Next chapter: Reaching Out_

**-XxMW**

**Chapter 3: Sam's living a life she doesn't want. She never thought it'd be this hard. Especially now that so many things have changed . . . **


	3. Reaching Out

Okay, this update might've been a little long, but at least I proofread. Future updates will probably be slower due to the fact that I am returning to playing KH II (I took a 2 month break to finish my fics). So, yeah, it also depends on reviews. They're great motivation. So please review if you like the chapter.

Thanks to: **JK rulez, katiesparks, Elemental-Zer0, v1rg1n1a, Kybo, SD, Horselvr4vr123**

Quick Note: SD, I am so flattered that you paid that close attention to Fading Remembrance. You have a really good point, and judging from the fact that it took about an hour for almost everyone to read that last chapter, I'm surprised you want me to add more. LoL, nevertheless, when I finish writing Alternative, I will go back and edit Fading Remembrance (as you can see, I did not proofread much for that story)

As for Maddie, you'll have to wait and find out if she'll be in the fic or not, but then again, she's been in all my others, hasn't she?

You also mentioned how you're not a great fan of Sam-centered fics. In all honesty, I feel the same way. It never really occured to me before you mentioned it. LoL, but don't worry, you'll be seeing other POV's too in here. But the plot requires Sam to be the main . . . well, character. After all, I left you guys with a cliffhanger in chapter 2, soit'd be a little weird to just jump right into Danny. And thank you for supporting my fics Okay, this hasn't been a quick note at all.

Thanks to V1rg1n1a for betaing!

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**Alternative**

Chapt 3- Reaching Out

_"What the heck is that?"_

_A darkly dressed girl kept her eyes fixed on a strange purple speck in the otherwise clear blue sky. It had appeared so randomly, catching everyone's eye. But why?_

_She didn't have much of a chance to figure it out when one of her friends, a dark skinned boy, pulled her arm._

_"Come on guys, I have a bad feeling about that thing," he said worriedly. She wasn't reluctant to follow, knowing deep down that something wasn't right. Her other friend, however, was. _

_"I'm gonna go check it out," he said without a glance at them, but she grabbed his wrist and held him back._

_There was a flash of light and the girl heard several voices speaking, all overlapping. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she heard a loud roar, followed by what sounded like, "I'm really concerned now. We have to go." The people speaking sounded worried, and she knew why. When it cleared, she found herself running through the streets, panting heavily. _

"_Sam!" someone called, but she ignored it. She knew what he was going to say, and right now, she didn't care._

Why do you have to make everything difficult,_ she wondered angrily, looking up at the sky to see an albino teenager dressed in black and white. He, however, was not paying attention to her. He seemed more focused on another figure, much larger. It was a ghost, no doubt. But its intentions were unclear. After every other second, another building, house, statue, or anything else in his way would fall, nearly making contact with her._

_Sam gasped and jumped, managing to pass over a fallen tree. Another one had landed hard on the ground right behind her. Despite the fact that she was now almost completely out of breath, stopping to take a break definitely wasn't an option . . . not unless she wanted to lose five feet off her height, anyway._

"_Move it!" someone yelled, pushing her against one of the buildings on the block. She stumbled and fell over, pushing a teenage boy about her age with her accidentally. He landed hard on the ground and scowled. She didn't notice and shot an angry look at the two people that had just ran by. Many more had followed, each shoving each other to try to get out of the rampaging ghost's way. _

_The Goth got to her feet and began making her way through the crowd. Not surprisingly, they were all heading in the opposite direction. She was trapped between them. _

_And sure enough, she had lost sight of the ghost teen she was following. A loud crash caught her attention and she turned around, only to see the building she had been pushed into before now lying in ruins. _

_Pink smoke was emerging from it._

"_Sam, where are you?" Tucker yelled. Sam turned her head to see him moving through the crowd with difficulty. The fallen edifice had aroused more panic in the citizens._

"_Tu—ow!" _

_She landed on her side against the sidewalk as the last few people ran by, all yelling in panic. Tucker moved past them with ease, but by the time he reached her, she was back on her feet and running again._

_He gave up on the chase and rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air. He looked up and spotted her several blocks away. Right above her were two figures. Neither of them was moving. He stood up straight and squinted. A pink flash caught his eye and he gasped. _

"_Oh no—"_

"_Danny!" Sam yelled, finally stopping to take a breath. She looked around for her missing friend, but a shout from above caught her awareness and she turned her gaze upward, only to see him fall right into the ground before her._

_The Goth gasped in surprise and double checked to make sure that it was him. She took a few hesitant steps forward and then took off in a run to meet him._

_A sudden roar sent a vibration through the atmosphere and nearly caused her to scream in fright as she stopped in her tracks. A red ball of energy had begun to materialize into a blast — probably larger than she had ever seen. _

_The more the girl tried to run away from it, the more she found herself being pulled closer. Her self control seemed to be slipping away as her body became stiff._

_Sam was petrified. She could feel her skin beginning to burn and stared transfixed as it slowly came nearer, blocking everything else from view_. _All emotion seemed to have left her mind aside from fear. She was never really afraid of death, but she never expected it to come like this — so suddenly. There was still so much she hadn't done. The first thing that came to mind was admitting her true feelings for her best friend, and this time, she didn't even bother to push the thought aside._

_All noise seemed to stop. Even time seemed to be slowing down as these thoughts rushed through her head. She could hear several loud beats, steadily becoming faster. They were followed by a faint and lasting cry. It was her own. Beyond her shout was another, though more distant. Someone was calling her name. It became louder and she snapped out of her thoughts just in time to feel something hard collide into her from the side, pushing her roughly out of the way. _

_She gasped and landed hard on the ground, sliding back a few inches as an excruciating pain spread through her back. The girl pushed herself onto her elbows and winced._

_She looked up just in time to make out a shadowed figure. He had taken the hit instead of her. Despite the pain, she forced herself back on her feet, but the force of the blast's aura knocked her back down instantly. Her eyes widened in dread and she screamed louder than before, reaching out a hand._

"_DAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNYYYYYY!"_

_Another cry echoed and continued, even after hers had faded away. The image changed from the blinding red fatality to black, but the shout had continued, though it remained very distant._

_She wanted to wake up . . . to put it behind her. But it was never that simple. The memory haunted her because it was her fault . . . _

_Suddenly, a faint image began to materialize within the darkness. A light aura surrounded the figure, revealing two vivid green eyes glowing luminescent against the black nothing. He was standing still, listening to the distant cry as it gradually became louder. As if trying to reach for something, he raised a hand and leaned forward slightly. _

_She struggled, trying to reach him back. A spark of hope had arisen, pushing her forward. She was so close. Their fingers were almost touching. She could practically feel it. But just as quickly, the boy before her began to fade away. She wanted to lunge forward and grab him, but her hand went right through. And just as fast, he had disappeared, leaving her alone with the pain of the continuous shout now drilling into her mind._

Sam jumped up, screaming his name. Her throat became very hoarse and she put a hand to it immediately. How long had she been yelling? The troubled teenager threw off her sheets (which had tangled around her legs). She placed a hand to her head and got up, sleepily walking over to her dresser to examine herself in the mirror. Beyond her closed curtains was a slightly darkened blue sky. The rest of Amity Park was silent, sound asleep in their beds without a care in the world for what she was feeling right now.

She checked the digital clock on her nightstand. It read 6:21 AM. The angry Goth moaned and returned to her bed. She sat down at the edge and lowered her head into her hands. A single tear escaped from her eye, soon followed by another. She never held them back.

It hadn't been the first time she had dreamt of The Fatality. Even three years later it still haunted her. The memory of what had happened . . . it kept coming back. She wanted to forget about it, but there was no way. It was her fault and therefore it would continue to return to her, reminding her of the mistake she made by following him . . .

She lifted her head slowly, allowing a few more tears to slide down her face and into her hands. The wind blew in through the opened window and pushed the curtains back to reveal a glimpse of the beautiful and silent sky. It seemed so peaceful. But then again—

A faint image flashed through her mind, reminding her of the morning of The Fatality. It seemed peaceful then too, but looks can be deceiving. Sam bit her lip. It hurt just thinking about it and what could've been if he had never saved her.

Over and over again she would see the same thing. Always she would wake up when the sky was dark, screaming his name, but he never responded — until now.

Something was different this time. There was something more. She didn't know how, but a voice in the back of her mind was telling her that she had finally reached him.

And just like that, she had lost him again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The doorbell rang, causing the startled Goth to jump up in alarm. She was in the kitchen, cutting an apple, when the sound reached her ears.

Sam put down the knife and brought the plate out into the dining room. After setting it down on the table, she walked over to the door and opened it. A dark skinned boy was standing behind it. He was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt, gray-black pants with a single blue stripe above each knee, and a black and blue cap.

"Hey Sam," the boy greeted as he stepped inside. Sam nodded at him and shut the door. It was still dark out, but lighter than it had been an hour and a half ago.

He sat down at the table and helped himself to a piece of apple. She sat down beside him and took one as well.

"Thanks for coming, Tucker. Sorry for waking you up this early," she began, but Tucker smiled and held up a hand to silence her.

"Don't worry about it Sam. I'm used to it by now."

She forced a smile, but it disappeared quickly and she rested her chin on her hands.

"So," he continued, "Same as usual?"

She nodded weakly and stood back up to make them some hot chocolate.

"Nice outfit," he said suddenly. Sam turned around and blushed. She was still wearing her pajamas — black shirt, black pants with silver bats, and purple bat-shaped slippers.

"Shut it," she teased, taking a bite of her apple before disappearing behind the wall leading into the kitchen. He laughed and leaned forward as a yawn escaped his mouth. He was exhausted, but then again, it was around eight o'clock and school didn't start until 9:30. Who wouldn't be?

Tucker never minded, though. As much as it hurt him to think of what had happened to his friend, Sam got the worst of it. She had to go on with her life thinking that it was her fault. She was also the one closest to the attack when it had happened. After all, it was meant for her. All he saw was a pink flash and a darkened figure fading away within it. She saw the whole thing, and she felt it, too, deep down.

The Goth returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and set them down on the table. Tucker sat up quickly and cleared his throat silently. He didn't like to think about those things — especially not around her. . .

Sam sat down and began mixing her drink with a spoon, unaware that her friend was watching her with a look of sympathy.

"So," she began, trying to start a conversation. "Are we meeting Damien today?"

Tucker nodded. "When don't we?"

She had to agree with that.

Damien was a transfer student. He arrived at Casper High during their sophomore year during the second term. Lancer asked them to show him around and the three quickly became friends, though they always held onto the thought that he was nothing like Danny and would never be.

It was for that reason that they never really did many things together. Things that Sam and Tuck would always do with Danny were usually never mentioned around Damien. In fact, he never even knew about Danny. They didn't tell him anything.

But for some reason, Sam always thought that Damien knew they were hiding something. He wasn't the sharpest of the group, but he had his moments. Whenever they would come close to the topic of their former friend and then change it suddenly, he would always give them a weird look. But she ignored it. Damien was nice, but there were some things they just never felt comfortable discussing with him; after all, he wasn't as close to her as Danny was.

Her eyes widened at the thought. A familiar feeling washed over her, causing her cheeks to become a light shade of red. She had almost forgotten that he wasn't with them anymore as her thoughts returned to the memories of several years back.

A warm feeling entered her heart and a faint smile appeared on her lips. She lowered her head and raised the cup to cover her face. Tucker, fortunately, hadn't noticed.

"He wanted to head over to the Nasty Burger after school to try out that new salad of theirs," he said suddenly, knocking her out of her joyous state.

"Huh?" she asked, at first thinking he was talking about Danny. "Oh! Uh, yeah. I wanted to try that too."

"Veggie lovers," Tucker said, receiving a scowl. Damien wasn't a vegetarian, but he did prefer vegetation over meat.

"Ah man, school's gonna be rough," he moaned suddenly, changing the topic again. "I hate Fridays."

Any other kid would've looked at him strangely for that, but Tucker viewed Fridays differently. It was the closest day to the weekends, yes, but what made it different from any other school day? After all, he still had to wake up early in the morning and sit through another day of classes, not to mention finishing homework to get the weekend free. In all honesty, he never really considered viewing Friday as a bad day until three years back . . .

"I hate every day," Sam mumbled in response, taking a sip. Ever since the accident, people have been treating her different. Her family, family friends, other relatives, teachers, you name it. And she hated it.

'_It's not me you should be feeling sorry for!'_ she would always yell when people stared at her with those pitiful expressions that she despised. Only Tucker was able to look at her like that because he was there with her. But it was different with people who showed empty sorrow. She hated it when they stared.

That lasted until sophomore year. After they befriended Damien, everyone seemed to have forgotten about Danny. She didn't like that they had replaced the thought of him with their new friend, but then again, it caused all of the unwanted sympathy to cease.

And then the new problem surfaced — ghosts. Danny was no longer able to fight them. At first, she had hoped he would return as Danny Phantom and visit them. But that never happened. She wondered why he had never come back. All of those visits to the Ghost Zone and he was never around. She gave up after the first few months.

So what was left to be done? Amity Park needed protection, but he was no longer around. People were always in question why Danny Phantom had stopped saving them. Those who were against him suddenly began hoping for him to return, but he never did. And then they all turned on him, thinking he had left them to suffer on purpose. Sam wanted to tell them the truth, but out of respect for Danny, she never did. To be honest, she became a little agitated that he had not come at least once to them.

Those angry thoughts weighed on her for a week. She was never able to push them away. Then one Sunday night, she had a nightmare, reliving The Fatality. Tucker had come to her to keep her company since her parents had always worked through the night. She was too much of a wreck now to be left alone. He knew that and tried his best to stay by her and give her as much attention as she needed. No matter how many times she assured him it was unnecessary, he would stay. Deep down, she was happy for that.

It was that same night that he assured her that Danny would've returned if given the chance and that if he hadn't, there must've been a good reason for it. Ever since then, she never doubted him.

But the longer the absence of their friend stretched on, the more peril Amity Park would be thrust into. Sam hated seeing them — those ghosts. They were the reason for that disaster. She had sworn revenge against them — and that was the perfect chance.

Not knowing what else to do, the Goth decided to step up and take Danny's place as a ghost hunter. She turned to the Fentons (for the last time since the incident) and asked to help. They supplied her with a pair of black gloves. At first, it seemed like a joke, but then during her first battle, she recognized their true power and wore them with her daily clothes to avoid unwanted attention.

With Valerie's unneeded help, the two girls patrolled the town during their own free time and kept the ghosts at bay. It was a little rough at first, but she got the hang of it. Valerie, however, saw the new ghost hunter as competition and always tried to catch more ghosts than she did. But Sam, also known as the Black Guard by the citizens (a name she wasn't too fond of) got better with the passing years. She had changed her outfit for ghost hunting before she started wearing it to school. That way, people wouldn't suspect that she and the Black Guard were the same person. They all assumed she was just very fond of the new hunter and started wearing the same clothes.

"Ghost hunting's the one thing I hate about this town," she voiced aloud to her quiet friend. He put down his mug and gave her a _tell-me-about-it_ type of look before averting his gaze to the glass table.

"By the way, how's that working out with you? Has Valerie given you any problems?"

"Aside from the constant looks of envy and hate. . ." Sam began.

"She's just jealous that you've got the town's attention and she doesn't. But she can't really blame you for that. _She_ chose to keep her hunting status quiet."

"I don't want the attention," Sam said, tightening her grip on the hot cup. "The _Black Guard_? Now I know how Danny felt with Inviso-Bill."

To no surprise, Tucker did not laugh at that . . . and neither did she. It always hurt to mention his name. It was as if a foul word had escaped their lips.

"And speaking of which," she continued, "I want to talk to you about something."

"Something about the dream?" Tucker guessed. She nodded and looked down at her drink which was now swirling around slowly in its container. She could see a troubled girl staring back at her through the reflection.

"I saw something — something else."

He raised a brow and listened. The Goth kept her eyes on her hot chocolate and her lip quavered slightly.

"Some_one_ actually. He-he was reaching out to me."

She paused and shot him a glance, but he remained still.

"And then I tried to reach him back, but I was screaming—"

"In the dream?" Tucker interrupted. She shook her head.

"In reality," she corrected. "But I heard it in my dream. And it got louder. Just as I was about to reach him, he began to fade away . . . and I was left grasping air."

"Do you think it was him?" Tucker asked, referring to their old friend. She shook her head no and looked up at him.

"I _know_ it was him."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

A shadow moved across the wall. Floating orbs of light were hovering above the figure as he glided through the lengthy corridor. The continuous up and down movement of the orbs was causing the light to dance around on the wall, constantly lengthening and shortening the shadow. But the ghost paid no mind to it.

He held a purple staff in one hand as he approached a door at the end of the hall. It was closed. He raised his other blue hand to open it. As soon as his fingers reached the knob, they became smooth and small, like that of a child.

The door slowly creaked open and he flew into the room, shutting it behind him. A larger orb was located in the center of the dorm, supported on a stand. It seemed as if roots were growing out of it to grasp the sphere and hold it in place. At the moment, all that could be seen was silver fog within it.

Beyond that was a bed near the wall. Another ghost was sleeping in it, breathing steadily. That little bit was odd about him. Most ghosts didn't breath; it was an unnecessary action. But then again, he wasn't like most ghosts. The first specter, now aged and wrinkled, stared, watching him with an unreadable expression. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Then suddenly, the sleeping figure's eyes opened wide and he jumped up into a sitting position. His face contorted in pain and he screamed, falling to the floor with his palms pressing against his forehead. The first ghost remained still, holding his staff vertically, still watching.

The boy cried out again and kneeled down into the carpeted floor, gritting his teeth in pain. As if he knew someone was watching, he looked up slowly. The aged ghost noticed and said, "It'll pass," before floating to other end of the room to something that resembled a large screened computer. Many wires were emerging from it. White flashes of electric energy were traveling through them.

The pained boy gasped and lowered his head again in agony. He hated that response. It never helped. The agonizing headaches had happened more than once, but never this powerful.

"Why—?" he mumbled weakly as another jolt went through him. "Clockwork. . ."

"She's reaching out to you," the first ghost, Clockwork, interrupted in response. The younger one gave him a confused look and then lowered his hands as the pain subsided. There was a voice in his head calling him. But whose was it? He had heard it before, once.

_Sam . . ._

"That's right," Clockwork replied, reading the younger ghost's expression. He looked up in alarm, thinking that he had read his mind.

"That scares me."

"I know."

"How—?"

"I know everything."

Clockwork allowed a small smile to form on his aged features before turning his back on the boy. He wasn't really a boy, but compared to him he was. Just then, the aged old man had been replaced by a young ghost in the same attire — still with the same scar on his left eye. His new form seemed to be around his twenties.

"Before you ask me again," he said as the teenager opened his mouth to speak, "I will explain. Whether the girl realizes it or not, those dreams that she has are a subconscious way of her trying to reach out to you. The new emptiness in her life fuels a desperate desire to see you again, and that desire is strong enough to send the message through to you. She misses you . . ."

"Then why can't I see her?" the teenage ghost asked, getting back up on his feet.

He was skinny, much less muscular than Clockwork, but over the past three years, he had grown a little more. His height had definitely increased, and his voice grew a little deeper, though it still showed hints of similarity to the way it had been in his youth. He had messy white hair that always fell over his bright green eyes, but it didn't bother him anymore. His main problem with his features was the fact that he was seventeen and still so scrawny. He probably would've been much better built if he had been allowed to return to the real world to continue battling ghosts. But of course, there was always someone to tell him what to do. Unfortunately, he respected Clockwork too much to go against his word, despite the fact that the ghost never explained the reasons clearly to him and he was always left confused. And no matter how many times he asked why he wasn't allowed to go back, he would always receive the same response.

"I have my reasons," Clockwork said, unaware that the boy had mouthed the words silently and rolled his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder and Danny, still convinced that the elder ghost could read minds, looked up quickly and smiled in false innocence.

As soon as Clockwork had left the room, his smile turned into a frown and he narrowed his eyes in frustration.

_'She's reaching out to you . . .'_

He looked up and sighed. He wanted to see her more than anything, but Clockwork's word had been clear. It was as if invisible chains had been bound to Danny, pulling him away from every desire he had. He didn't know why, but he couldn't break free.

It was probably the result of guilt. Clockwork had rescued him more than once. He had taken him in and protected him, watched over him. He couldn't help but remain loyal to him. But then again, what about his loyalty to his friends?

He glanced at the door to make sure no one was standing behind it. Then carefully, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could see at least a glimpse of the girl he had been wanting to contact for what seemed like an eternity. Besides, now that she was reaching out to him, what better time to try to respond?

Several seconds later, he found himself trapped in darkness, unable to escape as if a heavy veil had pressed his eyes shut. A very faint cry had entered his mind. It must've been hers. Slowly, he raised his right hand, hoping she would take it.

There was someone in the distance. She was crying . . . screaming his name. Finally, he opened his eyes (or so it seemed in his mind) and kept his face expressionless to avoid accidentally losing his concentration. The girl stretched her hand as well and tried to grab his. He leaned forward. They were so close. . .

Then suddenly, her cry became louder and she disappeared into the darkness. A jolt of pain went through him again and he opened his eyes, feeling himself fall and crying out in agony as her shout of, "_Danny!"_ faded away.

He was back in the room on his knees, breathing heavily with his hands to his head. There was a click from the other end of the room and he gasped, turning his gaze to the door. The knob had twisted. Thinking quickly, he ignored the throbbing in his head and got to his feet.

Clockwork reentered the room, keeping his eyes on the young ghost. Danny could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't like that look. The elder ghost seemed suspicious. Quickly, he averted his gaze to the floor and made his way to the other end of the room. The ghost didn't stop him, but he kept his eyes fixed the boy as he left, shutting the door behind him.

Clockwork stared with his eyes narrowed. His young apprentice was obviously up to something. But what? His mouth twitched slightly.

_He'll never learn.

* * *

_

_Ah, a first glimpse of Danny and a not-so-evil cliffhanger. All right, in the next chapter, you will see the Black Guard in action . . . _

_And for those of you who think this fic is centered around Sam . . . well, I guess I got so used to writing Danny-based fics that it kind of went into his POV in some parts. So now this fanfiction is basically revolving from Danny to Sam. Well, Sam to Danny . . . ah, whatever. Thanks to my reviewers!_

Chapter 4: Sam's losing her touch according to Valerie. But just as she gets back in the game, a surprise twist knocks her off her feet, literally.

And thank you, again, V1rg1n1a for betaing!

Please review. It's great motivation.And a tip, there's been a "Review Throttle" telling people to wait 30 seconds until they can review, which has been bugging me a lot. So a trick around that is to copy what you wrote before you submit it and, if the "RT" comes up, you can go back and paste it.

Yeah, anyway . . .


	4. Guess Who

_Long update. Sorry about that. But there is no need to hurt me, as my little sister has already covered that. I woke up with a bruised eye, so I'm pretty sure she punched me during the night._

_Anyway, I've been writing a lot for this fic. I'm currently on chapter 9 (and I actually am loving the way these chapters are coming out. My writing style is a lot different now than AH and FR. It still might need work, but hey, I'm practicing) Please, be patient. Plenty of cliffhangers coming up. Ha Ha! I love writing them._

_All right, there will be action in this chapter, as well as a glance at Sam's new life. _

_Thanks to my reviewers!_

**Elemental-Zer0, JK rulez, xheartkreuzx, katiesparks, v1rg1n1a, KILLERGRIM23, Poison's Ivy, Horselvr4evr123**

Quick Note: Thanks to **Cakreut12** for reviewing on deviantart-com. Pop-up blockers prevent submitting reviews on fanfiction-net, so I appreciate that you commented on DeviantArt.

* * *

**Guys, I absolutely hate hate HATE making OC's that get close to the main characters, especially when they come off as Mary/Gary-Sues (and I hope mine hasn't), but Damien is necessary to the plot concerning Danny, so please bear with me**

**Alternative**

Chapt 4- Guess Who

Sam dropped the brush on her dresser and examined herself in the mirror. She tied a portion of her jet black hair back while allowing the rest to flow loosely by her shoulders. Aside from personality, she had undergone several other changes — appearance being one of them.

She had grown taller, much taller. Boys that used to insult her now acknowledged her when she passed them in the hall. But of course, she threw them a glare and continued walking. She wasn't the boy crazy type, but they, however, were now starting to notice her more than she wanted.

Even Paulina seemed to be getting a little jealous. She was still the top beauty in Casper High, but she didn't like the fact that Sam was becoming even the faintest competition. That jealousy usually resulted in her commenting Sam as a "Goth Freak" whenever they met on the way to class.

And _that_ was usually followed by an "accidental" hit from the Black Guard whenever she was on duty. The truth was that Sam didn't have many friends other than Tucker and Damien. It was either people were jerks, snobs, too competitive, or distanced.

Sam made a face in the mirror and smiled. She always did that to see if she was scary enough to go out in public. One thing hadn't changed over the years — her unique individuality.

She stood up, grabbed the purple spider bag, swung it over her shoulder, and headed out of the room. Tucker was waiting downstairs, examining and old antique grandfather clock that currently read 9:15. It was given to the Mansons by her great Granddad Izzy.

Sam rested her left hand on the polished guardrail while proceeding to the steps, the other clutched around her backpack strap. Her parents would be back from work in a couple of hours. She loved their new schedule. No more opening the curtains and blinding her with light to get her up.

"Come on," the boy urged as he spotted his female friend walking down the stairs. She was wearing an all gray and black attire. The complexity of her clothes was chosen to show her indifference to the rest of the girls at school. She was wearing two different layers of shirts — one black and one gray. The black one's sleeves were cut into two straps that hung off her shoulders to reveal the gray one beneath it. Her black jeans were covered with a type of slanted gray skirt that she attached to the belt straps of her pants. Her matching boots started a little below the knee and overlapped the jeans. And of course, she had her black gloves and two thick silver bangle-like clasps around her bangs. Both of those items were essential to her ghost fighting.

"Bye Grandma!" she called, despite the fact that her grandmother was probably still sleeping. Receiving no reply, the Goth grabbed her technology obsessed friend's wrist and pulled him to the door.

"Are we taking the long way or shortcut?" she asked him when they had stepped outside. Aside from the windy breeze, the weather seemed nice.

"I think it'd be safer to walk since we're meeting Damien today."

"Oh, right," Sam muttered in remembrance. As far as she and Tucker knew, Damien had no idea of her Black Guard status. He was pretty much oblivious to all of their secrets. But then again, he didn't talk much himself.

"Tucker, Sam!" a teenage boy called. The two turned their heads to see their friend shutting the door behind him. He jumped over the stairs and landed on his feet on the sidewalk. They didn't know why, but he never liked to go down the stairs one at a time.

"Morning, Damien," Sam greeted as he approached them. He had a wide smile on his face. His hair, like Danny's, was a little ruffled. It was originally brown when they first met him, but he had changed it to white in honor of Danny Phantom. Of course, he never actually saw the hero due to the fact that he arrived to the school after May 5th of 2006, but when he had transferred in, news about the ghost boy's disappearance was still going around. After finding out that Phantom had been one of most infamous ghosts in Amity Park, he quickly began to research facts (or what the government thought were facts judged on their opinions) and became a quick fan. And by fan, she preferred the term obsessed. Honestly, the guy had highlighted his hair for him.

His eyes, wide as usual with happiness, were a light green, though nowhere near as bright as Danny's had been. In overall appearance, Damien's features weren't as great as Danny's. But then again, this was coming from Sam's point of view, and everyone knew she looked at Danny a _little_ differently than they did. In the Goth's opinion, whether she realized it or not, no one could compare to her long-gone friend.

Damien was wearing, to no surprise, his usual attire — baggy black pants and a light beige t-shirt with a zig-zagging line across the chest. It was simple to match his personality (which Sam sometimes found disappointing — simple was boring, and she did not take too fondly to boring).

"Did any one of you finish Lancer's book re—" he began (to no shock addressing the question to Sam), but the Goth cut him off.

"I'll give it to you in the library second period," she said. They had lunch second, but the trio never went to the cafeteria. It was where jocks were bound to be.

"Thanks."

"Don't you ever do your own homework?" Tucker asked, but Damien merely laughed.

"Do you?"

The dark-skinned boy grinned and turned to Sam. She rolled her eyes and said, "Fine."

"I haven't seen the Black Guard all weekend," Damien said suddenly, causing Sam to turn to him and accidentally walk into a tree. Both boys laughed, but she merely scowled and hit the closest one.

"Ow!" Tucker yelped, rubbing his left arm.

"It's a stupid name," she mumbled.

"What?" the albino boy asked, but she waved her hand in the air to change the topic.

"Dude, you're obsessed," Tucker stated, but Damien shook his head.

"I'm not the one who changed my entire wardrobe to resemble her," he said, gesturing toward Sam. She smiled and moved a little to the right to avoid the next tree.

"Besides, there's only room for one girl in my life," he added as a tease, earning another smirk from the Goth.

"Thanks," she said in the same sardonic tone. Damien always pretended to flirt with her. It was their idea of a joke ever since that excuse she had made in her sophomore year to get out of going to the end of the year dance with Mikey.

She was emptying out her locker when he asked and, fortunately, Damien, still confused about the social status and rules of the school, wandered by holding a piece of paper — no doubt his new schedule. He was looking around for something when she grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.

_"I can't go with you because Damien already asked me. Sorry Mikey."_

_"I did?" _Damien had asked, but she elbowed him in the ribs and he got the message. Ever since then, he always cracked a joke and made a teasing remark about how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have asked her out. The teasing got worse as they got closer, but instead of ignoring him, she teased him back and the game continued.

The shrill ring of the school bell interrupted their conversation and the three stopped, all with the same frightened expression. Then, in unison, they all whispered, "Crud" and dashed forward. The worst thing about arriving after the first bell was the crowd. And sure enough, a swarm of students began entering the school, blocking them entrance.

"I'm taking the shortcut next time," she hissed to Tucker.

"Fine. And while you're at it you might as well tell Damien who you are."

"Damien's on the track team. He can run to school and meet us there," she snapped back. And sure enough, he was already at the entrance of the school waiting for them.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"How you have the patience to actually do this on your own, I will never know," the white-haired teenager said to Sam as he scribbled something onto a piece of paper. She looked at him with a brow raised, but he had his eyes glued to her book report. Tucker was doing the same.

"I do my own work. I don't follow anyone else," she said simply.

"Geez Sam, do you have to interpret your individualism through _everything_?" Damien asked, finally glancing up at her. She gave him a scowl.

The bell echoed through the nearly vacant library just before she had a chance to respond. The two boys' eyes widened and they looked at each other. English was next and, judging by the horror-struck looks, neither of them had finished their reports.

"Crud," they said in unison. Sam rolled her eyes. How many times did she have to hear that word in one day?

"Hey, who wants to set off the fire alarm?" Tucker suggested in hopes of buying them some more time. Damien smirked and looked at Sam, who immediately narrowed her eyes and said "No."

She let out a gasp as a green blur sped past her. The two boys apparently hadn't noticed, each hastily trying to wrap their scattered belongings into their arms.

"Are you oka—?" Damien began, but she cut him off.

"Bathroom. Back in a sec."

She raised her eyebrows at Tucker while dashing off and he got the message. The dark-skinned boy dragged Damien to class while Sam ran the other way.

Once out of public view, she held out her hands, closed her eyes, and concentrated. The black fingerless gloves emitted a strange light as two silver metal batons appeared by her fingers. Green blades expanded from each end (each curved in opposite directions) and she closed her fingers around the weapons.

The silver bangle-like clasps around her bangs created a mask over her eyes that connected around her head. Two belts now hung loosely at her waist, crossing over each other and the skirt-like cloth merged with her shirt, changing her attire enough to avoid suspicion.

It was true that it did little to change the appearance, but she had learned over the years that, when it came to secret identities, the people of Amity Park were oblivious — too wrapped up in denial and personal opinions to put two and two together. After all, who would suspect Sam Manson of being a town heroine?

She opened her eyes and looked around for any sign of the green ectoplasmic malefactor that had flown by a minute ago. However, it was nowhere to be seen. Getting aggravated at the needless delay, she turned around to head back to class when a green light shone brightly in her eyes.

The Goth gasped and, thinking swiftly, bent back. It flew over her and headed for the bathroom window. She clenched her teeth (wincing at the discomfort in her back) and stood up straight. It resembled a type of mutated beast. Kind of like a striped snake with legs, wings, and a beast's head. In other words, it simply looked like a baby dragon.

The ghost locked eyes with her and hissed. She noticed rows of sharp fangs and kept her blades beside her, slowly approaching it. With one last snarl, it flew through the glass and out into the sky of Amity Park. She sighed and ran over to the window. There was only one way to catch it now.

She jumped up, bending her legs up to her chest, and released her weapons. They grew larger and connected, creating a jet sled that she landed on smoothly before taking off into the hall. The students passing by gasped and jumped out of the way as she sped past them, calling out "Sorry!"

They were so used to it by now that after she disappeared into the stairway, they shrugged it off and continued walking. One of the girls she flew by, however, narrowed her eyes and clutched a strap on her backpack.

Once outside, the Black Guard enabled ease to her speeding flyer and looked around. Her opponent had disappeared from view once again. She searched for any signs and waited, but it did not come out.

"Come on," she whispered, unaware that someone had appeared behind her. "You can't hide forever."

Suddenly, her surroundings darkened. A shadow was forming, growing longer and moving in all different directions as it rose vertically up the walls of the buildings. Her eyes widened in alert and she looked over her shoulder.

There, just behind her was what seemed like the same creature she had seen before. Although this time, it seemed to have grown several feet.

Without warning, it opened its mouth and let out a violent roar. She held her hands up defensively and shut her eyes as the force blew her back. She let out a shocked gasp as the gust of wind thrust her off the flyer.

Tilting backwards, Sam managed to do a backward summersault and grabbed the edge of it just in time to pull herself up before it dived. She bent down, grasped the side of her jet sled with one shaky hand, and flew out of the way. It focused its gaze on her and swung its tail around. She gasped and jumped over it, landing back on the jet sled right after.

"You seem a little off today," Valerie's voice remarked. The Black Guard looked up and noticed the red and black suited ghost hunter floating several feet above her.

"Out in broad daylight?" she asked, knowing all too well that Valerie preferred to hunt at night to avoid attracting people's attention — especially her father's. He was still against the idea of ghost hunting. The Fatality did little to ease his tension. Instead of replying, the girl merely frowned.

"Behind you," she said carelessly. Sam's eyes widened and she looked back just in time to feel something hard slam into her. She screamed and fell again, this time unable to regain balance. Rolling her eyes at the fact that her competition was losing her touch, the red clad ghost hunter leaned forward into a dive.

Sam, however, did not need rescuing. She flipped over so that she was now standing (or falling) upright and held out her hands. Her black gloves emitted a silver light and her green and silver blades appeared at her sides.

She held them vertically and lifted her legs up to her chest again. The tips of the blades dug into the ground and broke her fall. Once sure that she had landed, the Goth allowed her feet back down onto the earth and lifted the blades out of the dirt.

Growing angry, she clenched her teeth and ran forward, dragging them behind her. Valerie pulled out of the dive and followed the girl. She jumped high up into the air and threw each blade. Like spears, they connected hard with the dragon's shoulders. It let out a cry of pain and then turned its burning red eyes to her as she landed in a slight slouch, shoulders tensed.

She raised one arm before her and the other behind and summoned the blades back in her grasp. The ghost growled menacingly, but she merely smiled. It raised a clawed foot and brought it down, but she ran to the side and evaded the attack.

"Much better," Valerie commented, appearing beside the running Goth on her flyer. "You're actually worth the challenge now."

"Bring it," Sam replied, jumping back into the air and releasing her weapons. They morphed into her jet sled and she landed on it. Valerie ascended and decided it was time she joined the fight. She raised a sleek and thin weapon containing traces of pink ectoplasm and, without hesitation, fired.

The missile connected with its target and the ghost stumbled to the side. It quickly regained balance and let out a cry of rage. She aimed again, but it spread out its folded wings and threw her off balance. She yelled in surprise and reached out. Signaling that the pilot was absent, her flyer dived down after her. She grasped onto it several feet above the ground and climbed on, pulling out of the dive just in time and returning to the air.

The ghost looked at her and then back at the Black Guard. Both girls were approaching. It lowered its head and the two gasped. They bent down on one knee, grabbed the edge of their flyers, and pulled to tilt over to the opposing side. Fortunately, they just managed to avoid crashing into each other, but their distraction had given the beast a chance to attack.

It spun around, hitting them both with its tail and sending them right into each other. The girls collided into the other's side and fell simultaneously.

Valerie's flyer targeted her and flew down. Once again, she landed on it and returned to the battle, unwillingly pulling her 'ally' up with her as well.

"You are seriously losing your touch," she commented.

"Watch and learn, egotistic one," the Black Guard replied. Before Val could make a remark, she jumped off the flyer and landed on her own as it flew under them.

Once above the creature, she summoned her blades back into her hands and allowed herself to fall. Keeping her body straight, she headed right into the ghost, getting ready to aim.

By the time it took its attention off of Valerie and faced her, she had already swung her hand forward, piercing the sharp green ectoplasm into the beast's chest where the heart would've been (assuming it had one). It cried out and stepped back, but she wrapped her fingers around the jutting end of her weapon and prepared to stab it with the second one.

However, a sudden force collided with her shoulder and sent her falling headfirst through the air. She screamed in panic and summoned the first blade back. It appeared in her hand and she changed them back into a jet sled. It materialized above her, though, and she ended up wrapping her legs around the sides. When it turned upright, she was sitting on it.

"Who did that?" she snarled.

"Me," someone replied. Just as she turned her head to see who had responded, a glowing green fist made contact with her face and sent her falling again, this time too pained to focus on summoning her ride. She opened her eyes just barely and gasped. She was about ten feet away from landing headfirst into the cemented sidewalk. Suddenly, a hand wrapped around her arm and she shivered. It was freezing. When she looked up, she saw the same green glow — and a glimpse of a pale white haired boy.

* * *

_Ah, the cliffhangers reign again. Trust me, they get worse. Now, there is a significance to Damien's obsession with Danny Phantom, so please don't think I'm trying to make him Amity Park's new 'Inviso-Bill'. There's only one Danny, and he's currently trapped, well, residing in Clockwork's lair . . . heh, I'm evil. _

_For those of you who are interested, I drew a pic of Alternative — future Sam, Tucker, 14-year old Danny as a full ghost, Clockwork, two flashbacks, and quote you won't understand unless you either **A)** Read it in the right order or **B)** Wait until I update the chapter._

**LINK: ( - stands for . ) Viara-Deviantart-com**

Chapter 5: _Another side, same story. Sam's memories come flooding back._

_Reviews would be greatly appreciated. I love the motivation. And thank you!_

-XxMW


	5. Returning Home

and the laI apologize for the long update. I've taken a break from writing to reread Harry Potters 5, 6, and (currently) 3. And while I was reading, I came up with a nice little story idea for a Harry Potter fic. I started writing it last night, so if anyone is into Harry Potter, feel free to check it out. It'll probably be my only one. I will continue Alternative after, but I currently have 10 chapters of Alt, so it doesn't really make a difference.

Thanks to those who took time to review, I love hearing your comments, guys: **V1rg1n1a, JK rulez, xheartkreuzx, Horselvr4evr123**

Quick Note:_ I have updated the sneak peek in my profile a while ago (those who read my deviant art notices will know) It's a revised edit of the original._

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - _

**Alternative**

Chapt 5- Returning Home

A glowing green hand had closed around her arm, breaking her fall. Sam looked up and caught a glimpse of the green glow before her eyes focused on a pale white haired boy.

Suddenly, a strange force pulled at her and she gasped. The mysterious figure released his grasp and she braced herself for the impact, but it never came. Instead, she found herself back in the air on her jet sled, high above the dragon.

The Black Guard blinked several times, confused and light-headed. Was she hallucinating? She looked down at Valerie, but the puzzled expression barely visible behind her dark mask confirmed that it was real. In turn, Sam reflected the same baffled look.

. . ._ What_ . . ._ happened?_

It was then that she realized the boy was gone. But who was he? The first thought that came to mind was Danny (or at least all hope was pointing to that), but she immediately pushed it aside. He had attacked her. Danny would never . . .

Another glance at her comrade ghost hunter opened her mind to the possibility of misinterpretation. After all, Danny didn't exactly have great luck when it came to ghost hunters and his true intentions.

But still, it couldn't have been him. She would've recognized him — he would've recognized her. Truth be told, they only saw each other for a second. But even so, the look he wore was one of the first things she noticed. It kept returning to her mind; the more distinct features remained unclear.

He didn't seem happy, worried, surprised, or anything. Instead, she could've sworn she saw anger, but why? Why would he be angry at her?

It wasn't Danny.

That left only one other option — Median. And yet, it couldn't have been him either. The specter only came out at night. Not to mention the absence of his reason to be helping _her_.

"Focus!" Valerie's sudden cry ripped her violently from her thoughts. She blinked a little and returned to her vigilant state, a little too late.

A strange darkness had swallowed the scenery before her. Rows of pointed fangs were visible within it. The Goth screamed in panic and cringed, but the remainder of the attack ceased suddenly.

She opened her eyes slowly and lowered her hands. A bright red light had illuminated the area, swallowing the beast. It began to fade away into it with a final earsplitting cry, but she did not cover her ears. The Goth stood still, horrorstruck. She could feel it returning—

—That sickening pain in her heart that never went away. It was choking her, crushing her. Her beautiful amethyst eyes, now staring blankly, hollow and dazed, were opened to their fullest extent behind her shadowed mask. She could feel the wind's force working robustly against her.

_She was falling, frightened, confused, panicked, and helpless. A blinding crimson light had engulfed them, swallowing everything in its wake. An agonizing pain reached her back as she landed hard on the ground below. Still, she could not help but stare in disbelief at the scene above her._

_He was shouting. She could feel every ounce of pain he was enduring (whilst completely disregarding her own), though with a different state of mind. His body was being torn, vaporized, but at least the suffering would end . . ._

_. . . In due time._

_But not for her. It would never end for her. That pain in her heart — it never left. She had been scarred, brutally scarred, and there was no way to end it._

_Before the girl realized it, she was screaming too, alongside him. She was trying to vocally reach out to him. She wanted a response, but there was none. Her shout went on, longer than her lungs probably would've permitted. But just like him, it faded away. There was nothing left binding them._

_Absolutely nothing. He wasn't coming back._

He _never_ came back.

Valerie sealed her thermos shut and smiled with satisfaction. Shaking the cylindrical silver and red container with one last triumphant gaze, she opened her backpack and dropped it in. She had won this round.

The teenage girl looked up to throw a smirk at her competition, but her smile quickly vanished when she caught sight of the Black Guard.

Usually the hard-to-break girl who always recovered from the heaviest blows and was quick to regain composure, she now stood still and speechless on her floating jet sled. No smirk, no last remark before taking off, nothing. The girl wore not one single other expression other than sheer terror. The only visible part of her face had gone completely pale.

Panicked, Valerie quickly turned around to see if something had appeared behind her, but there was nothing at all. She returned her gaze hesitantly to her 'comrade' and raised a brow at the weird reaction. The Black Guard had faced worse encounters than this. What had caused this lingering and completely unexpected state of dread?

Then, without warning, she let out a pained shout and lowered her head into her hands. Val jumped back in surprise. Something wasn't right. Was she _crying_?

The darkly dressed ghost hunter slumped down to her knees. Her flyer shook a little at the sudden force.

The remaining hunter glanced around nervously, pondering what had just gone through the girl's head. She hadn't the faintest idea that she had been the one who caused it.

- - - - - - - - - - -

A knock on the door had disturbed the sleeping teen inside. He opened his eyes barely and yawned widely. The constant rapping did not lighten and he sighed, defeated. Throwing off the covers, the boy raised himself up on his feet and began to walk (pretty much stumbling after every few steps) to the door.

Just as he raised a hand to open it, the knob twisted on its own and it flew open. Anyone else would've been startled, but he was much too used to it by now to pay any mind to the aged blue ghost that had flown in.

He was carrying a staff with a working clock at the tip enclosed by two jutting lavender ends. A matching colored cape hung loosely around his shoulders, the hood falling a little over his blood-red eyes.

"Good, you're awake . . . and a mess," the ghost added, seeing the disheveled teenager before him. His dark blue pajamas were hanging loosely off of his thin and somewhat scrawny body. His eyes were half closed and he just groaned in response, turning his head toward the darker end of the dim room.

The elder ghost, Clockwork, raised his free hand and emitted a violet glow. A spiraling wind appeared around the sleepy teenager and he stood still, allowing himself to be magically groomed as was the routine of every morning. When the wind disappeared, he was wearing his normal black and white jump suit. Aside from his stubbornly unruly hair, the rest of his appearance seemed adequately more acceptable for public view, not that he'd have to worry about that.

"Was there a reason for waking me up this . . . . . . . . . early in the morning?" the younger ghost asked tiredly, stifling a yawn.

"It's noon," Clockwork replied nonchalantly.

"Joy," Danny said unenthusiastically. "And . . .?"

"And I've been asked to see the Observants. So I need you to keep an eye on the oracle while I'm gone. Do you think you can do that without a repeat of what happened last time?"

Danny cringed slightly at those words. The thought alone brought back painful memories.

_He had seen an Observant in the sphere. He (or she, he could never tell) was standing by the tower gates, waiting to see Clockwork. Danny, who was forbidden to leave Clockwork's tower without supervision to avoid a repetition of what happened when he first arrived in the Ghost Zone as a full ghost, misinterpreted the orb's message and, after making sure there was no one else with the Observant, went to open the gates. _

_Of course, Clockwork had left that very same morning and had left him in charge. Unfortunately, what he forgot to mention to the younger ghost was that the images that appeared in the oracle could either have been past, present, or future, depending on the clarity of visualization. _

_Unaware that what he saw was actually an event that had happened several hours before, Danny opened the gates expecting to see the Observant. What he saw instead, was about three or four of his enemies. Upon spotting him, they gathered their friends and outnumbered him. It did not end well._

"That was a year ago," Danny argued. "I was weak and stupid back then."

Clockwork raised a brow at his young apprentice who then added, "And still am," with a sigh.

"You're not weak and you're not stupid," the elder responded, knowing how powerful Danny truly was deep down and of the true strength he possessed, even though the young ghost himself was not aware of this little fact. "I just forgot to explain to you the way the oracle works. Keep in mind this time that the clearer the image, the closer it is to the present time. Future occurrences are a lot more obscure than past ones because we have no memory of what has not yet happened."

"Gotcha," Danny replied, walking over to the giant foggy orb in the center of the darkened and gloomy room. He sat down with his back perfectly straight, his head high, and his hands on the knees of each of his crossed legs like a tribal leader would. Clockwork, still a little concerned at the fact that he had left such a responsible task in the hands of a teenager, raised his staff and disappeared in purple smoke.

Danny, who had been sitting perfectly still, looked from the corner of his eye to make sure the other ghost was gone before exhaling deeply and falling into a slouch. His facial expression turned to that of annoyed boredom and he looked up at the giant sphere of haze.

It wasn't that he wasn't eternally grateful to Clockwork for rescuing him countless times and taking him under his care, but the ghost seemed to forget that Danny was just a teenager — near adult, yes, but still a teenager. Staring at a crystal ball all day wasn't exactly amusing.

But then again, it was better than his last job — guarding the tower. He would walk around the well kept field all day, waiting, hoping that some stupid ghost would wander into their territory and give him an excuse to use his powers, but that nearly never happened. After all, who could get past Clockwork's magically sealed gates from the outside aside from the Master of Time himself?

So instead, he would create ectoplasmic barriers around the enormous yard and practice shooting them down. But still, it wasn't the same as fighting ghosts. All of his experience had gone down the drain. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that if he was allowed to return to the real world and continue hunting ghosts, he would be _much_ better built now.

But Clockwork had prevented it. He didn't know why, but the ghost was never too fond of letting him return. Whenever Danny would ask, he would become uneasy and give him the same response as always — "I have my reasons."

"_And what exactly are they?"_ Danny always wanted to ask, but he knew better than to upset him.

Even now, as he sat in that dark room with his eyes glued to the oracle, he wondered what was happening in Amity Park. What had changed over the past three years? Were they doing better without him or worse? What had happened to Sam and Tucker? What would they think about the fact that he never came back to them? Had they ever tried to visit him in the Ghost Zone? It was possible, but it was a useless attempt. He was trapped behind the unbreakable barrier of Clockwork's walls and gates — not even real world items and beings were able to get through it. Who knows, maybe humans weren't even able to see his property?

And what about his parents? Had they gotten over . . . what was it that everyone in the Ghost Zone had called it? The Fatality? Did they still keep in touch with his friends? Was Valerie still ghost hunter extraordinaire?

Did anyone miss Danny Phantom? Who knew his secret and who didn't?

So many questions and only one way to answer them. But after three years, he had given up hope of ever being allowed to return to Amity Park; it was a dream that would never come true.

A faint white glow appeared in the oracle's reflection, but he hastily shoved the thought aside with the speculation of a weird image produced by the milky colored haze.

That was soon followed by a wisp of blue smoke that escaped his lips; he gasped, lifting his head off of his hand and sitting straight again. Had he still been half human, the signal would've been followed by a shiver.

He looked around for the intruding specter and got back on his feet. The ghost did not show itself. Gathering his courage, he clenched his fists and bent his knees a little to get into a fighting stance. Finally, something interesting to do . . .

But the longer the silence crept on, the more hesitant Danny became. He wanted to look into the oracle to see where the ghost had gone, but only Clockwork had the power to see whatever he wanted.

The teenage ghost yelped suddenly and involuntarily raised his left leg, only to find a small dragon-like creature sinking its fangs into his ankle. He shook it off and stumbled a little. That really hurt.

The small specter landed on all fours and looked up at him. Its body resembled a striped snake with legs. Danny's eyes flashed green, but the dragon just looked up at him. The boy's anger subsided and he leaned a hand against the orb to support himself.

He couldn't help but think of the small green puppy he had once come across when he looked at the creature — Cujo. Danny smiled. How a dragon had reminded him of a dog, he would never know. But then again, anything was possible in his mind.

The tiny specter put its nose to the carpeted floor and began sniffing for something. Its legs swayed when it walked, its body slinking in opposite directions between head and tail as if forming a slithering "S". Danny looked down at his leg. A little bit of green ectoplasm had stained his white boot around the two holes imprinted by the creature.

"Stupid lizard," he muttered, pushing off of the orb and trying to walk after it. He couldn't help but smile as it crawled along the floor. Aside from the sneak attack, it had really done nothing wrong. In fact, Danny was actually amused as he watched it. He felt as though he had just obtained a companion, someone to keep him company from the outside world.

He turned his attention away from the specter and limped back to his spot on the floor. Once seated, he placed a hand to his wound and allowed a white light to pass through his palm.

A stinging sensation went through his injury, but he bit it back. After a few more seconds, he let go and smiled. It was healed.

He had obtained that power at the age of sixteen not too long after that first oracle incident. It wasn't perfected yet. This ability allowed him to heal wounds, but the worse the injury, the more pain the healing process brought. It was for that reason that he allowed his serious wounds to heal on their own.

"_Come on. You can't hide forever_," someone whispered, catching Danny's attention.

"Huh?"

He looked up at the sphere. It was still a little unclear, but he could make out a figure in black. She was searching for something. He wanted to look deeper into it, but the image was replaced by silver smog again.

Bewildered, he got back up on his feet and examined it more closely. Who was she? From what he saw, the girl had her back turned to him. Her jet black hair was flowing gently in the breeze. The voice didn't sound too familiar, but then again she had been whispering.

Another glimpse of light caught the corner of his eye and he turned to face the wall again. His little dragon friend had disappeared. Two swirling vortexes had appeared where it had been looking before he went onto healing his injury. He noticed another smaller one several feet from them, just behind him — no doubt where his visitor had come from.

Danny's expression suddenly became much fiercer and he took several steps back. The last time he had been near a mysterious vortex, he ended up losing everything.

And that included his life.

Hesitant, Danny pulled his eyes away from the three silver lights and made his way around them to get to the door. He had to tell Clockwork.

The golden gates came closer in view as he sped past the hedges, flowerbeds, statues, levitating gears, and shrubs, his spectral tail flowing easily behind to increase speed. It was soon replaced by legs as the teenage ghost landed a few feet away from the exit. He continued to run until he had reached it.

Danny raised a hand to open the one of the golden doors, but as soon as his fingers touched it, he pulled away with a frightened gasp. Images — flashbacks — had spilled into his mind. He stepped back and put his hands to his head, trying to shake off the memory.

_It was ripping him apart slowly from the inside. He was trapped within the force, screaming, but the assailant would not show mercy. It had all happened so suddenly; he pushed her out of the way, but it caught up with him before he could escape. _

_It was the last thing he saw alive. A red flash reflecting in his crystal blue eyes. He heard her calling him, but his voice was shouting its own cry. What happened next was unclear, but at some point he had found himself staring into the darkness, desperately trying to find a way out. He wanted to return to them. _

_But when he woke up, he found himself in his ghost form, unable to change back and lost within the Ghost Zone. _

_"SAM! TUCKER!"_

_They didn't hear him. He called for his parents, Jazz, Valerie, anyone, but the only ones who replied to the fourteen year old's cries were the ghosts. And they were not there to help him._

_The news of The Fatality had spread fast. Everyone had figured out that he had become full ghost. It seemed they all knew before he did. It was all over the news in the real world, and those returning from that realm back into the Ghost Zone had spread the word around. The ghouls all took advantage of Danny's weakened state and crowded around him._

_He was left defenseless, frail, exhausted, confused, and completely unable to recover from the shock of that dreaded red light. It came to no surprise that they had won the match easily. Punches, kicks, blasts of ectoplasmic energy, scornful remarks, and that cruel mocking laughter. They showed no mercy on the adolescent. Old enemies and new had gathered to join into the fight and take turns beating Danny until he was blinded by the pain._

_But one had halted the fight just as he was about to receive the final blow. That ghost fought off all the others with the advantage of his control over time and brought the unconscious boy to his tower. Had it not been for Clockwork, Danny would've had to endure the relentless beating until his own misery knocked him out. And even then they would continue. It was their perfect revenge._

Danny opened his eyes and shook the thoughts out of his head. The memory had ended, leaving the pale ghost breathing very heavily. He never wanted to relive that, any of it. Slowly, he got back to his feet and looked up at the gate. That flashback had been completely random. His suspicions rose.

Clockwork. . .

He must've put a hex on the gate to make Danny see that in hopes of him thinking twice before leaving. And it worked.

He stepped back and glowered. There was only one thing to do now, take care of it on his own.

The agitated teen made his way across the yard again and back to the tower. Halfway across, he allowed his body to rise into the air as a spectral tail replaced his legs again, accelerating his speed.

That, aside from his healing powers, was something that improved over his time in the Ghost Zone. Although a full ghost like all of the others now, he was still very different, and therefore, he obtained powers no one else had.

His speed, now a little over 118 mph, was a good advantage on his part, though he usually never got to try it out on the account of being locked up in Clockwork's realm. Despite the immense size of the ghost's property, there were many dangers in flying at full speed here. For one, Clockwork's medallions, observing orbs, and other time-related artifacts were an easy target for him to accidentally crash into.

Danny ascended and sped towards a window in the west portion of the tower. He searched for the darkest one and identified it immediately as his room. He accelerated and tilted his body to the right, never stopping until his eyes had caught a glimpse of the three swirling white lights.

He chose one randomly and flew into it, ignorant to the fact that a vague and indistinct image of a darkly dressed girl had appeared within the oracle. A little before her was the back of a blurred boy, and binding the two was a strip of green light, one she was holding.

Danny could feel the oxygen leaving his lungs as a sudden white flash surrounded him. He tried to slow down, but the speed was out of his control. An invisible force was pushing him forward and he could not fight it back. He tried to put a hand to his throat, but even that took a tremendous amount of strength.

He could feel panic begin to enter his clouded mind. He was a ghost — even though he, unlike the others, needed to breath, it couldn't really kill him if he didn't. But still, it hurt. It was as if someone was choking him. The white light seemed to have no end.

Just as the thought passed through his mind, the speeding white blur suddenly formed into a light shade of blue. Soon, buildings, streets, cars, and homes began to come into view. Busy noises could be made out by the people walking along the sidewalk. Several of them had stopped to look up at the sky. But they weren't looking at him.

He moved his head slightly to the left to see what they were pointing at and immediately recognized the other figure in the sky. She was wearing a black jumpsuit with several red designs. A black mask had hidden her entire face, but he was able to see through it enough to identify her.

_"Valerie?"_

She was fighting something — something huge. A colossal green dragon was in the air, but its attention was on something else. Danny moved a little to catch a glimpse of what was behind it, but then suddenly, the dragon shifted and attacked, thrusting its shoulder into something.

At first glance, he thought it was heading for Val, but the beast seemed to make contact with someone else. In less than two seconds, he could make out a darkly dressed figure falling. And then next second, the ghost hunter was diving in after her.

Instinctively, Danny allowed his invisibility to kick in and followed the two. At a closer look, he discovered that the figure who had taken the hit was indeed a woman as well. She seemed to be around the same age as him, but who she was remained unclear. To the ghost's surprise, she recovered from the attack quickly and flipped over so that she was now falling with her feet toward the ground.

Danny continued to dive, though now paying closer attention to the status of the new girl rather than trying to save her.

Who was she? Had Amity Park received a new ghost hunter during his absence?

Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he decided to examine her fighting abilities a little closer to see whether she would pose as a real threat to him or not.

Not that it would matter. He doubted he'd be returning any time soon. As it was he was already supposed to be heading back. One minute was too long.

Danny gulped. He didn't want to see the look on Clockwork's face if the ghost returned to the tower only to find that he was gone. And worse, what would happen if he found out Danny had gone to Amity Park?

At this, he let out a gasp and looked around. _Amity Park!_ He was in _Amity Park!_ Sam, Tucker, his parents, Jazz! They were all here.

_He_was here. Finally . . .

Only now did he start to feel the warm and breezy air lashing at him as he soared; only now did he feel the brightness of day replacing the grotesque image of the green, murky Ghost Zone sky. Everything seemed so much more joyous now. Who cared if he got in trouble with Clockwork? It was worth it.

A scraping noise caught Danny's attention and he returned his focus to the new and unfamiliar hunter. She was running toward him now, approaching the beast that was directly behind him. A panicked thought passed through his mind before he remembered that she could not see him. Not even a minute and he already was afraid to cross paths with the girl.

Without warning, he spotted a speck of green and pulled himself out of his thoughts, only to realize that the light was actually one of the blades she had been dragging. Apparently, she had released it in a violent toss that even he was too slow to dodge.

The razor sharp edge of the weapon grazed his arm just below the left shoulder and he nearly cried out as a searing hot pain spread through him. Quickly, he grasped his wound to try to sooth it. The blade had continued to speed through the air until it hit its original target.

A sudden rush of wind told him that the second one had just flown by as well. Sure enough, the dragon let out a roar as it connected, just like the first, into its shoulders.

Danny couldn't help but feel sorry for it, despite the fact that its eyes, now red with ferocity, had turned upon the girl. He had just felt a glimpse of the pain it had been forced to endure because of her.

In all truth, it had done nothing wrong. He had recognized the creature as the one that was in his room a while back. Once innocent and curious, the ghost had been transformed into a savage beast. He knew what it was like to have people constantly attacking it just because of its spiritual status, regardless of the fact that it had done nothing wrong.

It happened a lot when he was alive.

That was enough to spark a rage within the boy. He, too, turned a look of anger at the darkly dressed teenager, who was now summoning back her weapons.

One appeared in the hand stretched out before her while the other was hidden behind. The dragon growled menacingly, but she just returned a smirk.

It brought one of its clawed legs down to crush her, but she easily evaded the attack and began running at it again. Valerie appeared by her side on her flyer. The two women exchanged a few words before she took to the air again.

The new hunter released her blades and they morphed together to create a jet sled. His eyes widened in curiosity. This was starting to get interesting. He couldn't help but wonder where she got those weapons.

A pink flash caught the corner of his eye and, judging by the intensity of the heat, he didn't waste any time turning to examine it. Instead, he spit his body from the midsection and curved it out of the missile's way. It collided with the enraged beast and he stumbled a little to the side.

Quickly regaining balance, the dragon unfolded its wings and threw Valerie off balance before she could fire again. Danny looked away and examined his wound. Green blood was emerging from it and he winced. That girl was going to pay.

His eyes reverted to their green entirety and searched the skies for her. Sure enough, both hunters were approaching the massive ghost, each from opposite ends. It took that to its advantage and ducked down. They recovered from the swift movement just in time to tilt their flyers in opposite directions and avoid crashing.

Danny released his injury and flew in closer to the battling teens. He set his eyes for the one in black, but the dragon made another move and thrust its tail into the two girls. They crashed into each other from the side and fell. Valerie's sleek black jet sled noticed the absence of its pilot and flew down after her. She landed effortlessly on it and pulled her 'comrade' up.

"You are seriously losing your touch," Danny heard her comment. His eyebrow kicked up in interest. So she wasn't new to this after all. A smirk crept onto his no longer innocent face. His temptation to fill the void left by being isolated from all ghost hunting was pushing him to fight. After all, she attacked him first.

By the time he turned his attention to the darker fighter, she was back on her own silver-green flyer and heading high above the creature. A thought of rage passed through him when he saw the dragon, outnumbered and off guard. It hadn't done anything to provoke them. The familiarity of the feeling from past occurrences urged him to stop her before she could attack.

But he was a little too late. She had reverted her jet sled back into two glowing blades and was falling right toward it. Keeping her body straight, she brought one of them forward and released it right into the dragon's thickly scaled chest.

A pained roar escaped its throat and she grabbed onto the jutting end of the spear, readying to throw the other one in.

Danny sped forward and pushed his right shoulder into her, knocking the startled ghost hunter through the air. She summoned back the blades and created her flyer.

Danny, no longer concentrating on invisibility, chased after her. She sat on her jet sled and looked around, wondering who could've possibly attacked her.

"Who did that?" she snarled, oblivious to the approaching ghost beside her.

"Me," he shot back angrily, clenching his hand into a fist and bringing it forward with a vibrant green glow. She just barely had a chance to turn to face him when his fist made contact with her jaw, knocking her off the flyer and back into the air.

This time though, she did not summon it back. A random guilt washed over the boy and his sharp expression softened. He had just hit a girl . . .

Well, it happened many times before when he had to fight ghosts, but that was different. After all, what made her different from Valerie? They were trying to protect the town . . . and were doing a pretty good job of it from the looks of serenity amongst the people (they didn't seem much panicked after spotting the ghost hunters). And who could blame them? Amity Park desperately needed fighters after Phantom disappeared so suddenly. Besides, a few years ago it was _him_ doing the same thing she was.

Without thinking twice, he flew down after her and reached out. The girl opened her eyes just barely and gasped. The pavement was coming very close to her sight. Lunging forward, he closed his glowing green fingers around her arm and halted abruptly so that both teenagers were now suspended just a few feet above from the ground.

He could feel a shiver from her end and looked down, still quite angry as the cut on his arm stung again. Coincidentally, she had looked up at the same time and the two locked eyes (well, he wasn't really able to see hers very clearly through the mask) for literally less than a second before a familiar voice said, "Time out!"

Just as quickly, she had stopped moving, but for some reason, it hadn't worked on him. Or had it?

Danny looked down and noticed a medallion had been placed around his neck. He slowly let go of the hunter's arm, but she did not continue to fall. Everything had frozen around them.

A chilling blue hand rested itself on his shoulder and he gasped, looking up to see the stark red eyes of Clockwork. He was not smiling.

"Clockwork, I—"

"I know," the ghost cut him off. Danny was silenced immediately. Shamefully, he averted his gaze to the floor and descended, landing on the solid ground. He didn't like looking into the time keeper's eyes when he was angry.

Clockwork knew this and therefore looked away as well. He didn't want to discomfort his young apprentice. His next words were spoken a little less stiffly.

"Although curiosity often does answer many questions, keep in mind that it can also lead one into harm."

"Yeah, I know," Danny muttered, still keeping his attention on the sidewalk beneath him.

"So, was there a reason for your coming here?" Clockwork asked. Danny noticed his voice growing distant and looked up. He was carrying the girl into the sky. He raised a brow in confusion.

When the younger ghost didn't reply, the elder changed the topic.

"I see you've been acquainted with the Black Guard."

_Black what?_

Without a second thought, he voiced his thoughts aloud and rose into the air. Clockwork's anger seemed to have subsided, so it was okay to get within ten feet of the ghost without having to worry about a staff making contact with his head (as had happened once).

"Amity Park's new ghost hunter. She's gotten quite a reputation over the years."

"Years? How long has she been here?" Danny wondered. He had never seen her before.

"She arrived shortly after you left. I've been keeping an eye on her. It'd probably be best if you avoided her."

He said that last sentence in a much more serious manner, not in an advising tone at all. Danny couldn't help but get suspicious at that. Clockwork wasn't suggesting he avoided her for his own good. He had said it the same way he insisted that Danny not return to the real world. For some reason, he didn't want the two to meet. But why?

Realizing that he was putting too much thought into this, Danny quickly made a note to look into that later and pushed it aside. After setting the Black Guard back onto her flyer, Clockwork took a hold of Danny's hand and raised his staff. A thin lavender smoke revolved around them, spinning faster until it blurred with the wind and disappeared all of their surroundings from view.

"Time in."

The voice echoed and he stumbled forward, landing clumsily on the soft carpeting of his dark bedroom floor. A little disoriented, the teen looked up to see a young boy in Clockwork's attire gliding over to the other end of the room. The boy spoke with the same deep voice and Danny could make out blue skin and the lightning shaped scar under his dark red eye.

"Rest up, Danny," the ghost offered. "You have a long weekend ahead of you."

Confused, Danny got to his feet and walked over to his bed. He lay down and sighed. That was enough excitement for one morning. But still, he couldn't help but feel like something was missing.

The first time he had been in Amity Park in three years and he didn't even get the chance to see the people he had been longing to see. All of those questions remained unanswered. Another chance like that wasn't going to come by any time soon, and he was not looking forward to waiting another three years.

Clockwork's youthful face seemed weary and aged as he left the room and headed straight for his study. It was all set now. He was ready — they all were regardless of whether they knew it or not.

With that comforting thought, he shut the door behind him and glided before his personal oracle — a flatter surfaced, circular device that was now currently emanating a green fog within the glass casing.

But the smoke soon cleared and he turned his watchful eyes upon it, waiting as a vague scene materialized before him.

With a loud clatter, the staff slipped from his hands and fell to the floor, but the ghost kept his eyes, now as wide as ever, fixed on the disturbing visualization before him. Only one accusatory word slipped his tongue:

_"Plasmius . . ."_

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

Chapter 6: "When you've lost your world, just remember to keep looking" — 'You _are_ my world, and I'll find you.' Sam's looking at her reflection, and what she sees is not how it should be.

_Next update will definitely not be as long as this one. Please review; it's excellent motivation, and really makes my day. Thanks again to those of you who did! _


	6. Contemplating

_I am SO sorry for the delay of this update. I just realized it was set to be released for August 21, but the 'genius' me got caught up in _Crude Irony_ and forgot. Once again, I apologize._

_This chapter is a very emotional one, so I implore you — don't tear my head off at the lack of action. Chapter 7 is loaded with it. Well, not necessarily loaded, but it's interesting in my view . . . equipped with evil cliffhanger as well. _

_Thanks a TON to my reviewers: _**JK rulez, KHFREAK14, Nobody Famous, gjcoolio, Kybo, Horselvr4evr123, v1rg1n1a**

_And thanks to **v**_**1rg1n1a**_ for betaing it! Get better soon, m'dear!_

_- - - - - - - -_

**Alternative**

Chapt 6- Contemplating

The drops of rain poured lightly on the shaded windows of the Manson mansion. Red curtains hung over all but one. Sam sat at the dining room table, pen in hand, writing hastily. She could see the drops of rain sliding down the glass in the shadow that had been cast over several of her papers. It was dark outside and the kitchen and dining room lights had been lit.

Mrs. Manson's heels could be heard coming down the stairs. Each step rang loudly in Sam's ears as she was pulled out of her silent concentration. The exhausted girl looked up, eyes half closed, and turned her head just barely to catch a glimpse of the staircase. Her parents were approaching.

_Run_, was the first thought to pop into her mind. She would've considered taking action if her father hadn't started speaking, signaling that her chance had passed.

"Still doing homework, Samantha?" Mr. Manson asked when he caught sight of the scattered papers and books on the table. She looked back at her work and continued writing.

"It's Saturday already, dear. How come your other friends are finished?" Mrs. Manson questioned, setting her purse on the table and going through its contents to see if she had everything she needed for work.

Sam wondered for a second how her mother would know anything about her friends, but the answer came to mind instantly — one phone call and Tucker's abnormally large mouth.

_Because my other friends didn't miss all of English on an hour-long ghost hunt,_ she thought angrily, recalling the extra homework Mr. Lancer assigned her when she arrived back in class two minutes before the bell rang. Apparently, Tucker had covered for her by saying she'd gone to the bathroom, thinking she'd return quickly. She didn't expect to get caught up either. She probably wouldn't have if it hadn't been for that mysterious ghost. If he hadn't shoved her, she would've defeated the beast in no time.

And yet, thinking about him didn't get her blood boiling. In fact, the thought that he had saved her from the fall (even though he was the one that caused it) kept returning to her mind.

"Sam?"

The Goth snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her mother's voice and realized her parents had been watching her.

"Oh, uh . . . My other friends just have different classes. I got assigned a little more work than they did. But I'll be done soon."

_I hope_.

She would've finished Friday night, but a visit from a certain ghost delayed her. Her lips tightened at the thought.

_Median. _

That jerk. The town thought _Danny_ was bad? This one was a complete follower of the former halfa, except for his attitude. But of course, since there was actually someone in town keeping him under control, no one paid him any mind. They never came up with false facts and opinions about him. They didn't feel the need to pay too much attention to the ghost since the Black Guard was on his tail at all times, and they trusted her.

And it was for that lack of attention that he always managed to escape. Median was crafty and quick, but he was usually only fighting her and, therefore, managed to always escape. Had he been in Danny's situation several years back, he would've been captured and destroyed ages ago. The ghost was skilled, but nowhere near as skilled as his idol had been.

"We've left some money on the fridge, Sammykins. Order something. Your father and I are heading to wo—"

"Mhmm," Sam replied, waving a hand in the air to signal that she had heard. It was always the same thing. "Have fun. . ."

"Call Tucker. I don't want you to be alone," Mr. Manson added. She gave him a nod and continued writing. They gave her one last glance and then left, shutting the door behind them. About a minute later, the luminous lights from the car spilled into the room, illuminating her words so that she had to pause until they drove away.

She wasn't really alone. Her grandmother was with her. But then again, it'd be highly unlikely for the aged woman to fight off an intruder _if_ anything was to happen. Sam would manage it, but they were unaware of their daughter's fighting status.

Finally, she wrote her last sentence and dropped her pen. Five hours for a stupid assignment. She'd have to make a mental note to avoid ghost fighting during Lancer's class.

Sam began closing her books and put them neatly into her bag. The clock on the wall read 5 o'clock. She still had some time to hang out with Tucker and Damien. She had blown them off yesterday to finish what was left of her homework, but things didn't exactly work out the way she had planned due to the arrival of her ghostly rival . . . _again_.

But today was different. Her work was done, the town seemed ghost free, and Tucker had no one else to hang with. From what she knew about Damien, neither did he. But then again, he always seemed to bail on hanging out in the evening.

When she finished putting her things away, Sam threw the bag over her shoulder and made her way towards the stairs. Once on the second floor, she made a right turn and headed to her room.

Shutting the door behind her, the Goth teen dropped her bag on the floor and flicked a switch on the wall. A dim light illuminated the dark room. The several candles on her dresser had been put out. Hanging on the wall were several pictures she had taken of Median a little while after they first met.

Unlike Phantom, this ghost wore loose clothes, probably clothes of his choice. He was wearing a black t-shirt with several white patterns, baggy black pants with a white belt, and white sneakers. This style was no doubt taken from Danny Phantom's shades. Median even had white hair and green eyes (though she often wondered if they were natural or not), but his eyes were much darker than Phantom's. His face was different. It was more mature, not like a boy's at all. Though the last time she actually saw Danny was three years ago. Who knows, maybe his features would've matured as well if he had still been alive.

Sam sat down on her bed and examined a clipping from an old newspaper. Median was in the far right of the picture, floating and smiling. The Black Guard, charging with her weapons at her sides, was at the far left. The article was mainly just about how Median had become Amity Park's top hunter's center of attention. It was a very short article, but she kept rereading it to try to find out whether the people had a positive or negative perspective of him. After reading the same thing over repeatedly, she gave up and decided it was neutral.

"It's not fair," Sam found herself muttering darkly as she crumpled up the clipping and threw it into her waste basket. Median got away with everything. He was a mischievous ghoul and even showed it, but no one did anything. They gave _her_ the _'honor'_ of taking him down.

She remembered how it had been when she first saw him. It wasn't too long after she became the Black Guard — same day, actually. He had crossed paths with her and, gaining a tremendously false hope of Danny's return, she followed after him.

_The ghost made a right, trying to throw her off course, but she steered her flyer after him. After what seemed like about a five minute chase, he finally flew into an alley and trapped himself. Upon seeing his face, all optimism faded, and her disappointment turned to rage; she knew better than to allow her hopes to rise so high. _

"_Give it up ghost," Sam said, sounding a lot like Valerie. Median had the advantage of intangibility on his side, but decided to stick around and chat with the new hunter. She had to admit she didn't really want to hurt him. He just reminded her so much of Danny Phantom. It actually made her want to cry._

_So, willingly, she lowered her weapons and chatted with the ghost, learning more about him. His humorous attitude seemed to match Danny's, but the more they spoke, the more she noticed his arrogance and mischievous nature. He cracked a joke about her, bringing back her suppressed state of rage. Only her friends were allowed to make jokes about her. They knew her; it was different._

_Sensing that he had gotten her angry, Median took off through the wall and disappeared. Not long after, she came in contact with the ghoul again. The more they fought, the more they would learn about each other until he took off and disappeared until their next encounter. After many battles, she learned a few things about him:_

_1) He only appeared at night and liked to make his departure quickly._

_2) He was a supporter and, judging by the clothes and overall appearance, fanatic of Danny Phantom (and always mentioned how his sudden disappearance had added to his __fame), though she doubted he had ever met him._

_3) He was an idiot._

_4) He was a jerk and liked to mess around with people for his own amusement; she hadn't ruled out schizophrenia since he had, on rare occasions, shown remorse before he took off._

_5) He was a full ghost that usually made references to how cool it would've been to be a halfa (there wasn't a doubt in her mind that he and Damien could start a Danny Phantom fanclub if not for the latter's irrational fear of all things non-human)_

_6) He was an idiot._

_7) He never mentioned Danny Fenton, though he did hear of the two Fenton ghost hunters and how Jazz had been secretly training (a fact which Sam didn't know until he mentioned it)._

_8) Paulina did not have a crush on him. No one did._

_9) His name made no sense at all and was therefore very well suited for him._

_10) He was a complete idiot._

She had written all of these details in her portfolio. She had different folders for each ghost, but Median's was the thickest. No one nowadays mentioned his name without including the Black Guard.

Sam glared at the image of the ghost on her wall and angrily threw a punch at it. Her fist hit the center of his face, but when she pulled away, he still wore that same smirk that she despised so much. She waved her hand a little and sighed. It was no use punching a poster. It wasn't the same. One of these days, she would give him a real taste of what her fist felt like.

Breathing in heavily, she turned away from the smirking ingrate (with a look of disgust) and leaned against her dresser. The lavender candles emitted a beautiful scent and she pushed all thoughts of the ghost out of her mind. He wasn't around now, so why aggravate herself?

The Goth looked down and noticed a thick green album with pink script on the cover that read "DIARY". It was hidden beneath several other books, but she recognized it immediately. Curiosity getting the better of her, Sam leaned forward and carefully pulled it out. It had been a while since she last looked through the pages within it. Her mother found it not too long ago and brought it into her room, but she never bothered to open it. Her fingers rested on the edge of it, wondering whether to look through it or not.

Beside the book were the pair of gloves she had been given by the Fentons. A strong guilt went through her, deepening her frown. She owed a lot to them. After all, they were the whole reason for Danny's existence. . .

. . . Both halves of him.

She didn't forget that they were always trying to seek and destroy Phantom, but like everyone else in the town, they were deceived. After all, she suffered a lot from his death, but she had to admit that they felt far worse. He was their son, brother . . . her friend.

Either way, he meant a lot to all of them. The Fentons never did figure out what he was. Nobody did. She and Tucker kept that little secret to themselves. It was a promise they made to him during one of their trips to the Ghost Zone. They would never tell.

But why hadn't he come back?

Clear drops of water began staining the plastic protection over the pictures as Sam absentmindedly flipped through the pages of the album. There were so many memories the three of them had shared. Why did he have to go so suddenly?

_Because you had to get in the way._

"Stop it!" she found herself yelling out loud, grasping her hair with her hands. "Shut up! I know!"

_All of those years—_

"_I know_," she whispered, lowering her hands slowly and dropping her gaze down at one of the pictures. Danny and Tucker were lying on the linoleum floor of the tower by the zoo. The boys were sleeping with their arms wrapped around each other.

The memory made her want to smile, but her lips only curled enough to turn her frown into a regular expression. She couldn't do it. It was just too painful.

She flipped to the next page and let out a choked sob. She was with Danny Fenton, hugging him. Tucker had taken the picture. They were together at a Dumpty Humpty concert and her favorite song had been playing. Danny, most-likely with a little overshadowing, managed to get the group to sing it. As soon as Tucker saw her with her arms around him, he got out his phone and began taking pictures. They were later emailed to Sam with a note convincing her to add it to the album (no matter how much she was against it) for future laughs.

But she wasn't laughing now. She wanted to, if they had both been with her. It just didn't seem right with the trio missing a member. Turning the page over, she found another picture of all four Fentons together. Her heart twisted again. She could feel an invisible grip tightening its grasp on her. She couldn't inhale; only choked sobs came out.

That whole family had been broken, shattered. The news of The Fatality brought all three of them into a state Sam couldn't even describe. It was as if their very souls had been wrenched out of their bodies. She and Tucker visited them once and as soon as they stepped into the house, they wanted to leave.

It felt so dismal, bleak, empty. The atmosphere was just so dark and dreary, even to a Goth. She was used to gloomy sights, but never in this way. They were pale, almost ghost-like. Maddie and Jack had even given up on ghosts at the time (and probably still, but she wouldn't know). Jazz had stopped focusing on school, college, and psychology all together. She knew what really happened. She knew he had gone ghost. She knew everything.

That was probably the last time Tucker visited them. Sam, on the other hand, returned to search the Ghost Zone for Danny. Tucker read out the map for her to see what doorways they had marked, but when she couldn't find him in those realms, she searched everywhere else . . . or as far as she could anyway. The Ghost Zone was too big to go through, not to mention dangerous.

When all hope had been lost, she only returned to them one last time to ask for help. Maddie and Jack had lost the spirit to continue going on with ghosts, but she had hoped they could make something for her to take their place.

After that, she never went back. She never saw them again, save for the few glimpses of them in stores or on the streets. Even Jazz kept herself isolated in school. Sam would look at her, but the girl would simply turn away. Fortunately for her, the grades she received before The Fatality occurred had been good enough to place her into Stanford. After that, all contact ceased.

The only people Sam communicated with now were Tucker, Damien, her parents, Valerie, and occasionally teachers and anyone who got on her nerves.

Flipping the page, Sam found a picture that literally made her heart stop beating. Her pulse became irregular as she kept her eyes fixed on the image. She could no longer fight the tears.

Screaming, the Goth grabbed the book and threw it across the room. It collided against the wall and fell, photographs scattering everywhere. The pages crumpled together as the album landed messily on the floor.

Hoarse cries escaped her throat as she sat there, petrified, feeling remorse at what she had done and at the same time not bothering to fight the urge to rip every picture she had. But she didn't have to fight it. Her common sense told her it was wrong. That was all she had in memory of Danny. It was the only thing she could use to see his face . . .

But it wasn't real. He wasn't here. She wanted to see _him_. She _needed_ _him_.

She slumped onto the floor, her fingers clutched tightly around the rug. Her skin was pale, a little too pale. Her conscience would never let her forget that it was she who chose to follow him . . . it was she whom he had to save at his own expense.

_'Leave me alone,' _she wanted to say, but it was a useless effort. It would never go away. It was the message her mind used to remind her why he had left.

_Could it be my fault he never returned?_

Her lip quavered slightly as more tears fell, now wetting her floor. Several drops had landed on her skeletal hands, sliding down as she tightened her grip. Then, narrowing her eyes, she let go of the rug and looked up. Beyond the surface of her dresser was a mirror. She caught a glimpse of herself and sighed.

Her face was red and covered in tears. Black marks from her smeared eyeliner were visible just below her hollow eyes. They no longer shined with life as they used to. They were dark, lifeless, alone, reflecting her in every way.

She had beautiful eyes before, amethyst and clear, though she never paid any attention to those aspects. But now she wished she could get it back. She longed to be happy again. She wanted them all to be happy.

_I want him back._

It was as simple as that. She wanted something she couldn't have. All dreams fade away eventually, right? So why didn't hers?

The Goth never gave up on things she wanted. She was persistent, stubborn, determined — and for that she was now tormented. She kept chasing some faint idea in the back of her mind that told her that Danny wasn't truly gone, even though the rest of her believed that he was. She was never going to see him again, but she didn't want to accept that fact just yet.

But hree years was enough. She had cried, suffered, wished, hoped for so long. It was time to realize true fact. He was gone, and crying over it every time his memory came to mind was _not_ going to bring him back. She had done all she could, but now it was time to face facts, no matter how hard it was for her to accept it.

"You're not coming back," the depressed girl whispered with much difficulty into her reflection, feeling her heart give one final tear as the warm liquid slid down her cheeks again.

And with that said, she turned her back on the distressed face of Sam Manson and walked out of the room, flicking the switch off and silently closing the door behind her.

The light entering the room from the hallway illuminated the fallen book and several scattered pictures, but one stood out amongst the rest. It had wet stains around the two figures.

Sam and Danny were dancing together under the starry sky in full view of the moon. Her head was resting on his shoulder. A warm smile was visible on her face, and he was smiling back, a look of affection clear in his unusual blue eyes. The expressions on their faces released so many emotions and hidden desires. That one image spoke a thousand words. She loved it more than anything . . .

And then the light narrowed and disappeared with the soft click of the door.

- - - - - - - - - -

The rain, still pouring steadily, had eased by the time Sam arrived at the Nasty Burger. Had it not been for the dark clouds spotting the sky, it would've still been bright out. She glanced at her cell phone. It was 7:18. She let out a sigh and rested her cheek in her hand, slouching over the table.

The chances of Damien showing up now were very slim. He didn't like going out at night. Tucker had assumed more than once that the guy was afraid of the dark. She wouldn't rule that out; Damien was afraid of everything as far as she was willing to guess. Ironically enough, despite his obsession with one of them, ghosts were way up high on the list. They usually appeared at night more often — especially since Median was around in the late hour to occupy the Black Guard.

Her expression tensed at the thought of the ghost and she quickly pushed it away. If he ruined her night, she'd kill him. Again.

"Sam!" Tucker called as he entered the Nasty Burger. To no surprise, the restaurant was packed with teenagers. They loved coming here on rainy days. She had chosen a table away from the entrance and near one of the windows.

"Hey," Sam said with a slight grin. She got to her feet and waved for him to see. Tucker, already familiar with her ways, turned immediately to face the empty portion of the Nasty Burger. Sure enough, there she was. He beamed back and walked further in. Another teen was following behind him. Sam froze and stared in awe. Damien — _out in the dark?_

"You convinced him to come?" she whispered to the darker boy when he reached her. He let out a soft laugh and sat down.

"It wasn't easy."

"Amazing," Sam said with a smile. "So how long do you think he'll stay? Two — three minutes?"

Tucker let out another low laugh and covered his face so that their other friend wouldn't see.

"Tie him down and we can stretch it to three and a half."

"Chatting already?" Damien asked, amused when both teens' heads shot up immediately to look at him.

"It's nice to see you out past your curfew," Sam said, sliding closer to the window so that he could sit. "Six o'clock, wasn't it?"

"Ha ha. You're hilarious. Nah, I didn't really have much of a choice," the boy replied with a smirk, throwing a glance at Tucker. She, too, faced him, a look of curiosity set upon her face.

"I must know, how on earth did you pull it off?" she asked, earning a shrug from her dark-skinned friend.

"I just kept talking—"

"At a speed only he could pull off," Damien cut in.

"—Until he threatened to hang up on me—"

"And then he threatened to track me down with his PDA. You know better than anyone that there's nothing worse than Tucker running a marathon with his mouth when he's five feet from you."

"And you're much better?" Tucker retorted defensively. The younger boy laughed. Sam merely raised a brow at this.

"Okay, I'm _seriously_ starting to question why I hang out with you two."

"Hey, aren't we gonna order something?" Damien questioned suddenly, looking down at the empty surface of the table.

"I'm waiting until the line clears up," the Goth said indifferently, turning her gaze to the crowd of students lined up beside the cash register. Valerie was having trouble keeping up with the orders. Not even she could learn to move _that _quickly.

"We'll be here till dawn, then," he groaned.

"You'll stay that long without a nightlight?"

"You're verbally abusive."

"You make it too easy."

"Seriously, Dae, I have to side with her on that one," Tucker chimed in. He received no response until he looked up and noticed both teenagers staring at him with eyebrows quirked.

"Dae?" they both repeated in unison.

"What? Can't the guy have a nickname?"

"Please don't," said Sam. Tucker shrugged casually and looked over his shoulder at the crowd.

"Hey, the line's moving. Why don't we go or—?"

"Add one," said Damien serenely as a person walked in and added himself to the throng just as the other left with his order. Valerie was practically sweating by now. Her hair was coming loose and she kept trying to hastily tuck it under her Nasty Burger uniform hat or behind her ear.

"One Might Meaty Cheesy Melt with fries, a large soda, and vanilla yogurt on the side," she called to her fellow employees in the back. "That'll be five twenty-five."

"Hey Val," Tucker said suddenly as he approached, causing the startled girl to jump. She pushed her bangs out of her face and stared in shock at the three teenagers at the other end of the counter.

"Hey," she said softly, a small smile creeping onto her face. It had been a while since she last heard that voice. To be honest, the thought of Tucker had left her mind when the two stopped talking a while back, but now it all came back with a simple 'Hey Val'. It felt so familiar and yet so distant. Maybe it was puberty? Or probably the fact that they had been mentally separated for almost three years (save for the few words spoken in class). The moment was definitely awkward.

Realizing that he wasn't alone, she turned her gaze to Sam and Damien, nodded her head, and returned to the kids in the line.

"Hang on a sec," she said to the three. "Welcome to the Nasty Burger, yata yata, what would you like to—?"

"Take a break, Val," another woman of similar age cut in, stepping up to the cash register with her eyes fumbling behind her back to tie the apron. Her blonde hair was tied neatly in a ponytail, several strands falling in front of her light blue eyes. She had a warming smile — one that Damien returned almost idiotically. "I'll take it from here. You go chat with your friends."

_Friends?_ Sam mused at the irony. Still, she couldn't help but notice the girl's eyes fix on Damien as she said this.

"Thanks Tina," Valerie said, her tone full of relief.

Tina said nothing, but her eyes darted to the two boys. Damien was now focusing on the menu, sharing a few words with Tucker. They laughed at something, but the Goth paid no mind to it. The last two people Sam ever wanted to see had just walked in through the doors and were striding toward the front of the line without a single regard to the others.

"Out of my way, Goth freak," the Hispanic girl said rudely, pushing Sam out of the way. Her amethyst eyes narrowed in rage and her fists tightened, but she held them stiffly at her side and decided it'd be best to avoid physical violence. Especially in such a crowded place.

"Goth freak," Sam repeated through gritted teeth. "You know somehow, that _never_ gets old."

Paulina's wide eyes narrowed as well and her lips tightened when she sensed the heavy sarcasm in her rival's tone.

"Ignore her," Star joined in, tugging at Paulina's arm. "She's nothing more than a tramp."

"You would know," Sam shot back, once again noticing the irony in that, "Trailing behind your master—"

Damien and Tucker became aware of the bickering and simultaneously turned their gaze toward the two girls.

"Darn it Sam," Tucker said under his breath as he rushed to separate the two before one of them snapped. Damien followed behind, easily outrunning him as they made their way through the forming crowd.

"Sam, cool it," Valerie suggested, putting her hand on the Goth's shoulder just incase.

"Great, the nerds travel in packs," Paulina said to her popular friend, a nasty smirk forming on her lips, receiving a vicious glare from Valerie. The words didn't hurt her as much as the fact that they were coming from someone who once used to be really close to her — or so she thought.

Before she could restrain herself, the dark skinned girl thrust her fist forward. Had it not been for Damien suddenly wrapping a hand around her wrist and stopping the punch, Paulina definitely wouldn't have been smiling anymore.

"Let me go," she demanded, trying to pull out of his grasp. She knew the mistake she had made and was grateful to the boy for stopping her, but the growing rage was preventing her anger from returning to its depths. She wasn't planning on doing anything else to the girls, but he didn't let go. Instead, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her away.

"Consider your job," was all that came out of his mouth before he steered her to the table they had been sitting at.

"My point is proven," the Hispanic girl said, regaining her posture now that Valerie was a safe distance away. She nodded her head at Damien and Star laughed.

"Too true . . ."

Sam's fury was clearly visible in her features. Tucker had appeared behind her, trying to pull her away, but she stood her ground.

"Do me a favor, Paulina," she said darkly, ripping out of her friend's grasp and striding forward. The addressed girl pursed her lips warily. "Go crawl back into your ditch."

She snatched a half-empty soda from the counter and ripped off the lid. Paulina let out a loud and infuriated shriek as the dark liquid poured onto her unexpectedly. Star jumped back to avoid getting splashed.

With a satisfied grin, Sam shook the container once more to make sure the last drop fell before capping it, turning her back on the two, and walking away.

The crowd let out a mixture of gasps, screams, and laughs behind her as she took her seat next to Valerie, the two boys on the opposite side of the table. Her grin had widened tremendously.

"She'll have your head for that," Tucker informed her, though he couldn't hold back a laugh. Sam just shrugged and looked into the empty container still in her hands.

"Let her worry about hers first."

At this, Valerie couldn't suppress a snort as she, too, started chuckling.

"Oh man, if it wasn't Paulina, Danny would love this," the African American boy said suddenly. Almost immediately, everyone stopped laughing and their expressions (including his) stiffened. He quickly clasped a hand to his mouth. Damien was the only one who seemed baffled.

"Uh . . ."

Quickly, Tucker cleared his throat and forced a smile.

"Nevermind," he said, earning more suspicion from his friend. He looked at Sam apologetically, but she gave him a weak smile and looked back at the empty container.

"Y-You know, I think I'd better go help Tina," Valerie said as she stood up. She didn't want to interfere on the awkward moment.

"Who's Danny?" Damien asked before she could leave. The girl bit her lip and swallowed uneasily.

"Uh . . . a-an old friend," she stuttered, avoiding his gaze. Questioningly, he looked over at Tucker and then Sam, but they both kept silent as Valerie moved past her and rushed to join her fellow employee behind the register.

Growing a little agitated at the weird silence and sudden sulkiness, Damien finally decided to drop the subject and leave his two friends alone. They must've been keeping something secret — something they didn't want him to know about.

"I'm gonna go get a soda since you emptied that one. You guys want anything?"

As one, both teens shook their heads no. With a sigh, he walked past Tucker and followed the unfamiliar dark-skinned girl.

Tucker finally lifted his gaze off the table to make sure they were alone before turning to his gothic friend.

"Sam, I am so sorry. That just slipped and—"

"It's okay," she replied quickly, looking up at him. It usually didn't happen that Danny's name would slip like that in a conversation, especially not if they were laughing. It made her question why Tucker had said it.

"You were thinking about him before, weren't you?" she asked quietly. His eyes darted back to the table and his shoulders tensed slightly. She could see it was difficult for him to speak when he opened his mouth and no words came out. Instead, he just gave her a weak nod.

Turning to the window, she whispered, "Me too."

At this, Tucker raised his head. It came to no surprise to hear that. Sam was always thinking about him.

"I just . . . I just remembered how it was. You know, the three of us? Always planning to hang out sometime after school and then something came up with ghosts to prevent it. Kind of like yesterday. It had me thinking. What would life be like now? With him?"

Sam allowed a small smile to form on her lips before she replied.

"A heck of a lot easier for me."

Even Tucker smiled at that, though a little stiffly.

"For all of us," he corrected.

"Tucker, I'm so sorry. I-I shouldn't have . . ."

Her voice broke off at that and she quickly put a hand to her cheek to wipe off the fallen tear.

". . . I shouldn't have followed him—"

"Sam, it is _not_ your fault," he assured her, but she shook her head and began wiping the tears again.

"Yes, yes it is! I should've listened to you! I should've listened to him. If I hadn't followed him, I never would've gotten in the way. He never would've had to—"

"And then what?" Tucker interrupted again, reaching into his pocket for a spare tissue. He carried a small pack for occurrences such as this. "The battle would go on and then what? It's not your fault, Sam. If you want to blame someone, blame the freak who caused all of this."

He said the last few words harshly, though the tone wasn't meant for her. He hated that ghost. He hated him with a burning passion. They both did. She swore revenge, but he'd be the one to get it.

Sam merely shook her head. She didn't know what to say. Instead, she took the tissue and began drying her tears. Thoughts swam in her mind; thoughts she couldn't grow past. They haunted her. She hated it, hearing the panic ringing in her ears, hearing Tucker's shouts, but only focusing on one thing:

_. . . Finding Danny._

Sam's dazed eyes came back to focus and she lifted her head. Tucker was watching her, though he didn't seem to notice that she had been deep in thought.

"When you've lost your world, just remember to keep looking," the Goth whispered absentmindedly, recalling what Jazz had once said to them at the park a little over ten years ago. She never understood what it meant (neither did Danny or Tucker by their confused looks). The girl had been looking for something, something important.

"_Just give it up_,_"_ _a young Danny insisted. "You've been searching for days and still haven't found it." With that, he shot Sam a devious smirk — one she returned with a sigh._

"_No way," his older sister replied. His face dropped and he gave her a look of annoyance._

"_Why not?"_

"_Bearbert means too much to me," she replied with a poorly suppressed sniff that came out as something of a snort. "And sometimes, when you've lost your world, you can't give up. You just have to remember to keep looking."_

_The three kids looked at each other questioningly and then burst into fits of laughter. Jazz always had a way of twisting things to make them sound mysterious and adult-like — no matter how lame it came out in the end. _

But Sam understood it now.

"What?" Tucker said, eyeing her questioningly. She kept her head down and tightened her grip on the tissue she was holding. The tears had stopped falling. She remembered looking into the mirror a little while earlier that night. She had given up — but does Sam Manson really _give up_?

"When you've lost your world, just remember to keep looking."

_You _are_ my world . . . and I'll find you._

_- - - - - - - - - -_

Chapter 7: Rivals come face-to-face as Median's appearance brings forth a new chain of events; and she won't hold back.

_Thanks to my reviewers._


	7. The 'Second Phantom'

_A first part of this chapter was intended to be a part of the previous chapter, but I decided to cut that one short, and basically rearrange bits, and I ended up with an extra chapt. LoL. Most of chapter 6 and 7 were both supposed to be one, but I decided not to torture you people with something that would take an hr to read. Yes, so now we have one extra chapter._

_Anyway, I like this one a lot. Many of my reviewers have told me that chapter 6 touched them and they felt bad for Sam, Tucker, the Fentons, etc. I, personally, hated that chapter, and I felt nothing. Am I heartless? Or is it something else _;)

_This one, I like. Let's see if you feel the same. The only reason I am fond of this is because it contains my two favorite aspects of writing: Action scenes and a cliffhanger. I love that combination! Anyway, it's a little elongated, but the extra bit at the end is necessary. You will also find out, soon, why I have Median in this story._

Afharisto to: **JK rulez, Nobody Famous, gjcoolio, AlisSilly, KHFREAK14, v1rg1n1a**

_- - - - - - - - - - - - _

**Alternative**

Chapt 7- The 'Second Phantom'

The luminescent light of the moon reflected upon the glass of a closed window. The room was dark, as was the sky. Stars were positioned beautifully against the patches of blue and black. The shades blended together in magnificence.

But the colors did not sooth one soul. A figure sat, leaning his arm against the window sill, his back slouched and chin rested in his hand. As if waiting for something, he remained still, vigilant. The city below seemed so peaceful. Lights were brilliantly illuminating the streets. It all seemed calm.

_Not for long_.

He raised his head suddenly. A sense of panic had entered his mind. He sat up straight, narrowing his eyes slightly. That voice — that thought — seemed so familiar.

It wouldn't be long now.

He returned to the window and looked up at the moon. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky; nothing to hide it from his view. But the beauty wouldn't last forever.

His curiosity growing, the boy leaned closer. A green speck had appeared within the glowing sphere. It steadily grew darker, though the size remained the same. At a closer glance, he could see a red light leaking around it like blood traveling through water. It was shattering the splendor of the sky — as well as his calm state of mind.

The boy remained still, trying to focus on something, but it was a battle he could not win. His mind grew dazed and he could feel a painful contraction in his throat. The green speck continued to darken, but the blood-red coloring around it remained the same.

He blinked and it disappeared. And then he opened his eyes; it appeared again, this time much wider. He was screaming, though not in agony.

The force was taking over, its strength far superior to his at this time of night. He had the disadvantage now and no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't going to win.

In one last attempt, he slumped onto the floor and remained there shaking, still trying to keep his conscience. But all morals of right and wrong were steadily slipping away . . .

It was what _he_ wanted now.

In a rush of wind, the figure was back on his feet, smiling widely. Two fangs were visible through the faint light that reached his face. He turned his back on the glass . . .

. . . And as he did, the parasitic green speck had detached itself from the moon, returning it to its faultless splendor.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The faint _swooshing_ noise of a speeding jet sled could be heard high above the streets. It was a sound commonly heard in Amity Park. Usually, passerby would look up in admiration at the ghost hunter passing through the sky, shouting words of encouragement.

Sam's masked eyes darted around as she stood, perfectly balanced, on her flyer, scanning the darkened skies. Her look was fierce and she wasted no time in her search. He was close, she could feel it.

Sure enough, the girl felt a slight shiver reach her spine as the atmosphere suddenly became much cooler. Her silver and green flyer stopped almost abruptly and she remained vigilant.

Why did he have to ruin it?

She'd been having a nice evening with her friends. It turned a little awkward at one point, but aside from that, everything seemed to be going well. Even _Damien_ showed up.

And then that creep had to come in and mess things up. The Nasty Burger was fortunate enough to have remained in tact since he only had a chance to wreak havoc with his appearance. Everyone had run out screaming while he just floated there, laughing.

That laughter drilled into her mind like a monotonous drone. How stupid was he to disturb the one place she was bound to be? But then again, he didn't really know she was who she was.

Still, it gave him no excuse.

"Come on!" she found herself yelling angrily, turning her head to the right in her search. Just then, a black and white blur sped past, blowing her jet black hair into her face. She let out a surprised gasp.

_Oh no you don't!_

Bending her knees and shifting her body weight to one end of her jet sled, Sam sped after him. She could've sworn she saw a green speck as he glanced over his shoulder to look at her.

Then, in a wisp of silver smoke, he was gone. The Goth narrowed her eyes, all too familiar with this tactic. She wasn't going to fall for it.

Jumping high into the air, the Black Guard outstretched her arms and summoned the weapons back into her hands. Just as quickly, she pulled her right arm back and then thrust it forward, releasing her green and silver blade. It sped through the sky and disappeared into the smoke. There was a cry of surprise as a figure was thrown out of the haze, the sharp blade pushing him from behind.

He crashed through an edifice window and landed on his side in an office, rolling on the floor at least twice before coming to a stop. The weapon landed beside him, soon followed by the darkly dressed hunter. She landed easily on her feet and called back her blade.

The ghost slowly pushed himself up by his hands until he was kneeling before her. A slight smirk had been set on his pale face.

"Well, well, well, someone's a little cranky tonight—"

"Shut it," the Black Guard snapped, approaching him with her blades at her sides, their edges scraping against the floor behind her. He stood up, still smiling with his eyes narrowed.

"Temper, my dear—" he began, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I said shut it!" she yelled again, throwing both blades. The ghost didn't seem intimidated by this. He simply turned to the side and the two spear-like weapons sped past him, blowing his black shirt a little with the rush of wind.

He turned his head to her, but she just glared.

"Wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you," she threatened through gritted teeth. The burning resentment she felt toward the ghoul was growing rapidly. That face — that smirk — she loathed it almost as much as she loathed him.

The memory of her punching that poster of him returned to mind as she saw him in the same position. Without warning, she thrust her fist forward, but he tilted his body back and evaded the attack. Just as quickly, the ghost reached out a hand to the ground and flipped backwards, catching the hunter off guard and kicking her over. She did an aerial summersault and landed perfectly on her feet.

"You seem a little upset, BG," he said to her, the smirk still evident. She scowled and turned around to face her rival, fists tightening. "What's the matter with you? Loosen up and smile a little. You should be more like me."

Those words were enough to wash away the remaining bit of control she had.

"Was that intended as an insult?" the Goth spat, summoning her weapons back into her hands.

"Ouch," Median said with a slight laugh. Sam's masked eyes narrowed in rage as the smirk returned. She let out a frustrated cry and ran forward, swinging her blades forward violently in different twists. Median jumped back, ducked, dodged to the left, and then took to the sky, but she was too quick.

Acting on reflex, the Black Guard quickly twisted her blade upward, managing to graze his stomach. He let out a pained gasp and immediately put a hand to his wound. Taking his distraction to her advantage, she flipped back, dug her blades into the tiled floor, and kicked out. Locking the ghoul between her ankles, the huntress threw him over her. He landed roughly on the floor, his eyes now wary as she landed, pulling her weapons out of the ground and running forward again.

Without hesitation, the Goth approached him with another attack. She jumped into the air, knees bent into her chest, and spun around once before exerting all of her force on bringing both weapons down. The ghost gasped and rolled over to the side, just barely escaping the edge of the twin blades as they dove into the floor right beside him, shattering the tiles.

"Harsh, BG. That almost got me," he said with a laugh before phasing through the ground as she brought her foot down, just missing his face.

Gritting her teeth in anger, Sam pulled her blades out of the ground and brought them over her head (crossed over each other to form an X) and just managed to catch Median's arm as he aimed a punch. Before he could escape, she spun the weapons rapidly, pulling his arm as well and throwing him onto the floor.

The ghost slid several feet on his back before coming to a halt, the smirk no longer visible. His eyes were wide with surprise, but he didn't have a chance to think things over as her fast paced footsteps drew closer. Acting quickly, he rolled over onto his stomach, pushed the upper part of his body up with his hands, and spun around, kicking out. He managed to get her legs from behind, throwing her off balance just as she was about to attack.

The Black Guard fell back with a startled gasp and then recovered quickly, hopping back onto her feet with her weapons grasped tightly in each hand — one in front and one behind.

But by the time she had gotten back into her fighting stance, her rival was gone. She spun around quickly, expecting to see him behind her. Sure enough, he was floating a few inches off the ground, his arms crossed and a smirk present.

"I think you're losing your touch, BG."

Sam could feel her teeth beginning to ache from clenching them so hard. He wasn't the first to have said that to her.

"Ingrate!"

She brought her right hand up to attack, but he flipped back before she could do anything and kicked the weapon out of her hand. She tried again with the other, but he completed the flip and grabbed her wrist before she could complete her assault.

She cried out in pain as he twisted it slightly and dropped her remaining blade. As soon as he loosened his grip, she pushed forward and grabbed his arm with her free hand. He laughed, but she pushed him back.

"A useless effort, BG," he informed, beginning to phase through. That distracted her long enough for him to push her forward violently. She landed hard on her back, still holding onto him. Likewise, he kept his hand wrapped tightly around her left wrist.

"Get off of me!" Sam said angrily.

Before he could respond, she let go of his arm and smacked him hard in the face. His smile disappeared and he let go of her long enough for her to kick up and throw him off.

She scrambled to her feet and ran toward one of her fallen blades, but Median spotted her and got to his feet as well. She reached out a hand to grasp it, but a silver-white mist sped past her and materialized into the ghost, blocking her way.

Clenching her teeth again, Sam swung her right leg over, but he leaned back and evaded the attack. She bent her body to the right, placed her hand to the ground, and swung her other leg over. He smiled and became intangible, phasing right through it.

"That's not gonna work, BG. Face it, human attacks don't work too well on ghosts."

"If you thought as much as you talked this battle would've ended already, you probably being the victor," she said, aiming a side kick.

He laughed and caught her foot.

"Thanks for the tip. I'll put that into consideration."

The hunter, now in his grasp, tilted the upper half of her body back and, twisting a little, placed both palms on the floor. Then, pulling her legs forward past her head, she managed to throw her rival off. He created a gust of grey wind that flipped him over until he landed smoothly.

Sam noticed one of her weapons a few feet behind him and dashed forward. He held out his fists to prepare a defense, but she didn't attack. Instead, she ran up vertically, pushing off his chest with her foot, and flipped over him. Landing on one hand, she did a one handed cartwheel, grasping the fallen weapon with the other before completion.

Median turned to face her and flew forward in a grey mist. He materialized directly in front of her, but she summoned the remaining blade and crossed them into an X in front of herself in defense. He rammed into them, but they held him back as the two struggled, each trying to overthrow the other.

"I know you can do better than this, BG," the ghost said with a little difficulty as she slowly began overpowering him. But in a battle against ghost and human, the paranormal being was most-likely to come out victorious.

With a forceful push, he managed to knock her off balance a little. Sam gasped as her knees buckled and her body bent back at the force of her rival's weight. She shut her eyes tightly and focused on overpowering him.

Her arms were generally weaker than her legs, but this was one of those cases where she would have no choice but to summon all of the strength she could muster. Doing just that, she managed to push her blades forward a little. He slid back and, realizing she was getting stronger, let go and jumped out of the way. She gasped as the sudden disappearance of the ghost caused her to stumble forward.

Learning from past occurrences, the hunter recovered quickly and looked up. He was high in the air, flying down at her. She gripped her blades tightly and bit her lip. There were two choices now: run out of the way and continue the battle on the ground or—

She gritted her teeth in determination and lunged forward, taking to the air and bringing her blades forward again, crossing them in front of her. The two collided once more, but before she could fall back, he tried a new tactic. It was originally meant to throw her off, but the distraction ripped him from his concentration.

The ghost released a spiraling gust of silver wind (more feeble than he had intended) that spun them halfway so that they were now in each others' previous spots — meaning she was above him now, and as long as he kept in the air, she would be suspended as well.

But he knew this and quickly tried to push her beneath him. However, Sam didn't give him the chance. She immediately spotted the torn slash on his shirt, stained slightly with green ectoplasmic blood from her earlier attack. Just as Median pushed her down, she kicked out and got him in the stomach, directly where his wound was.

The ghost cried out in an agonized way that brought a smirk to her lips. He turned his attention to his injury as she fell headfirst, raising the blades over her so that they reached the floor first. She then flipped over, landed on her feet, and pulled them out of the ground. The ghost, still in the air, was too pained to have noticed her.

_Goodbye Median._

That single thought passed through her mind before she narrowed her eyes in loathing and thrust the two spears through the air with an immense force.

The gleam reflecting off the green energy caught the ghost's attention and he turned his head just in time to see the weapons speeding toward him. Acting on reflex, he stretched out his body to try to dodge the assault, but they caught onto his shirt and pants under the knee and trapped him against a wall. He gasped and prepared to phase through them, but the Black Guard had beaten him to the next move.

She dashed up the wall and grasped onto the ghost's hand before his intangibility kicked in. The extra weight caused the edges of his clothes to tear and he fell, along with the huntress.

She released him and closed her eyes. The two green and silver blades vanished in a flash of white light and reappeared under her feet, forming into her jet sled. She landed on it and flew several feet higher to avoid collision with the ground.

Median gasped as the rush of wind pushed forcefully against his back. His torn clothes were blowing upward against the breeze and he could sense the floor nearing him. Recovering from the Black Guard's painful blow, he spun around onto his stomach and flew back up until they were face-to-face.

The huntress straightened her stiff posture and waited hesitantly as the breeze from the shattered window whipped against her face, but she had her mask to protect her eyes and therefore kept them alert.

Median's dark green ones, however, narrowed and a smile began to form on his face. He could sense her irregular breathing and noticed she was growing tired.

"Did you hear what they're calling me now?" he asked suddenly. To the ghost's fortune, the hunter raised a brow, signaling that she was interested in the topic. However, she did not say anything, so he just continued. "They're calling me the 'Second Phantom'."

As the words sunk in, Sam's eyes widened in rage and she could feel her fists tightening,

_W-What?_

Was that supposed to be some sort of a joke? She shook her head quickly and returned her focus on the battle. He wasn't going to throw her off guard with that.

"It's not a joke," he said, startling her. There had been many times before where he said something and she gave him a reaction and then shrugged it off immediately as if he was just saying that to distract her. "You can read about it in today's newspaper. It's a very small article, but that's how it always is with me. I'm not exactly the center of attention in this town. Not like he was—"

"Shut up," she snapped harshly, but he continued regardless.

"The 'Second Phantom' — should I be honored or insulted by that?"

Sam's face (if possible) grew paler and she bit her lip to restrain herself from shouting out something foul. Then taking a deep breath, she slowly and shakily whispered, "It . . . it depends on opinion."

Median's loathsome smile expanded at the tone of her cracking voice. He had hit her weak spot.

"He never did anything to deserve that," the Black Guard said bitterly, her voice shaking violently as if she was fighting back tears.

"Ouch," he said with a smile in reply to her verbal assault. The ghoul examined her face carefully, but the mask had hidden her eyes.

"That depends on opinion, BG—"

"Shut up! He was much stronger than you!"

She summoned back her weapons and allowed gravity to take its course. Median gasped and flew down to try to catch her, but she flipped back in the air and landed in a one kneed squat, her cold gaze set upon him.

"Don't . . . don't touch me," Sam said in a whisper, her words clearly breaking up as if she was ready to break down herself. "You are_ nothing_ like him."

The ghost hesitated to reply in his bafflement. He had tried to _save_ her. A feeling of dread came upon him. He was overcoming . . .

It didn't take long for Median to realize his enemy was staring at him (or at least he thought) with her lips pursed. He knew that look all too well, but the circumstances were different this time. He returned a look of confusion. His eyes showed sympathy for reasons he didn't even know. He didn't care about her; he was losing control.

The ghost couldn't even find the voice to ask her why she had suddenly become so weak. After all, she couldn't have known Phantom. She arrived even after he did, and he never met the ghost.

Sam lowered her head and remained slouched over the floor, shaking with misery. She wanted to cry. She hated it, that pain. It was returning, slowly eating away at her heart. It was as if Danny had been nothing to the town. He wanted to protect them, keep them out of harm's way. He risked his life trying to be the hero — and they never even cared until he was gone.

Too absorbed in what the media was saying, the people all pushed the thought of heroism out of their minds and assumed he was some evil . . . She couldn't even find a word for it. She never could when using Danny in the same sentence. It just wasn't him, and she knew that.

And now she wasn't going to stand for it anymore. She owed it to him to do something about it. They couldn't replace the thought of Danny Phantom with Median, no matter how similar their features were. Median was a follower of Phantom and nothing more.

"You are a failed attempt of a replica of the original phantom, but you are _not _a second _DANNY Phantom_," she snarled, suddenly gaining back her fierce composure and eying Median as a hunter would with her prey. And that's exactly what he was.

The ghost's looks of sympathy and confusion were replaced almost immediately with a challenging and yet intimidated look. His eyes narrowed and his frown turned into a glare. Like her, he was ready to battle, ignoring the hidden fear that had risen at her enraged reaction.

The darkly dressed teenage girl got back up on her feet, her face now stained in tears. That caught her prey off guard. She was crying? The so called fierce knight of Amity Park was crying!

His eyes widened in realization and the smirk returned to his face, though this time revealing two short but sharp fangs. A blood-red coloring appeared around his dark green irises as a devious expression set across his features.

"You loved him," he cooed, unaware of the stunned look the Black Guard returned.

_Love_**d**

The thought entered her mind before she could hold it back. The girl stiffened and a hint of pink appeared at her cheeks. Unfortunately, her mask did not cover that, though the tears would make a valid excuse.

"N-no, I-I didn't," she stammered, adding more to his suspicion. Median's smirk grew and he let out a stiff laugh.

"The Black Guard was in love with a _ghost_?"

So many questions sprang into his mind with that one sentence. His sneer disappeared and he turned back to her.

"_You_ were in love with . . . a _ghost_. So why the heck are you hunting them?"

"Median," she began patiently, tightening her grip on her blades, "stop, now."

"It was that bad, huh? Being in love with Danny Phantom—"

"RAH!"

She lunged forward and thrust on of her spear-like weapons into his side, but he became intangible on reflex before the attack could cause him any serious pain. She fell through him and whipped around, ready to strike again, but the ghost had disappeared.

The Black Guard returned to her fighting stance and looked around with vigilance. She didn't have to search long though when his voice caught her ears.

"Man, BG, that really hurt."

The hunter looked up, eyes narrowed, to see her arch nemesis floating many feet away, just inches below the ceiling. He was examining the new wound that appeared just below his left ribs. Along with the other cut she had given him, the green blood had now stained the entire bottom of his shirt.

"Get down here!" she yelled threateningly, but he ignored her. She clenched her teeth in aggravation. "Get down or I'm coming up!"

Once again, the ghost did not reply, adding more to her anger. She wanted to repeat her attack on the coward, but that wouldn't be possible if she was in the air.

"How many scars did you give me today?" the specter asked suddenly, turning his gaze to her. His smirk was long gone. The red coloring around his green irises expanded. She raised a brow at that. It usually remained a small layer around the dark green. "And then you complain that I always cause _you_ trouble. Why not back off and let me do what I want?"

Sam's lips twitched slightly at her rising temper. _She_ was causing _him_ trouble? That was ironic . . .

"You don't even know what you want!" she blurted. It was subconscious, but the roots of what she said were in all the times he committed crimes and then felt Goth's fierce expression softened as, once again, the possibility of schizophrenia popped up.

To her surprise, Median just chuckled a little and shrugged.

"You've seen it too, then? That I'm not usually right in the head?" He tapped the side of his head with a finger and smiled feebly.

Sam stared at him questioningly, but only one word came to mind.

"Huh?"

Was this supposed to throw her off guard?

"Don't waste your breath, Median. Psychotic or not, I have no reason to sympathize with you."

Median merely returned a forced smile.

"I don't expect you to," he said quietly. Her eyebrow kicked up in puzzlement. It was happening again.

Impishness turned to repentance, but she hadn't expected anger. She was completely bewildered, but nothing threw her off more than his next words:

"You deserve it though. All of it. It was your fault."

"Wha—?"

Before she could dwell further into the subject, a cloud of silver smoke began materializing around him. She let out a gasp and immediately allowed her flyer to form, wasting no time jumping onto it.

"No!" she demanded, stretching out her arm to try to catch him, but the ghost was too fast. The revolving smoke disappeared, leaving her fingers to close around the cold air left behind.

She clenched her teeth in anger and stopped her jet sled, falling into a sitting position as her hatred of the ghost rose rapidly.

The coward . . .

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Danny's vibrant green eyes remained fixed on the captivating presentation within Clockwork's oracle.

_The Black Guard jumped high into the air, spun around once, and brought both of her blades down to strike her enemy, but he rolled out of the way just before they made contact. _

He flinched at the sight of the two weapons shattering the tiles directly where the ghost had been.

_"Harsh BG. That almost got me," her rival said with a laugh before he phased into the ground, once again evading her attack as she brought her foot down where his face had been._

So this was Median — supposedly the Black Guard's arch nemesis. Danny examined the clear image in the sphere in hopes of satisfying his curiosity of Amity Park's new heroine. There was just so much about her he wanted to know. Like for one, who was she? The fact that Clockwork had "suggested" he keep away from her was an even greater cause for his curiosity.

The time-keeper knew this, of course. It was no news that Danny's interest revolved around matters that he was not allowed to dwell into. Therefore, he recently started keeping the ghost boy informed by giving him small details and updates of what's been going on in the human world, but his news did not relate to the Black Guard as much as he had hoped.

The image in the sphere began to disappear, leaving Danny in disappointment as he was left watching nothing but the white haze. All he learned from this was that Median was her rival, but that had already been confirmed in the newspaper Clockwork had given him (after he carefully went through it to make sure it didn't contain too much information).

Danny's eyes narrowed as he looked for the small article near the end. It didn't take long for him to find it. The headline read "Amity's Second Phantom". He rolled his eyes at that.

"Sure thing," the ghost muttered as he made his way to his bed. Keeping his eyes on the paper, he fell back with ease, landing on his folded sheets and crossing his legs for comfort. He rested his head back into the pillow and began rereading it.

"_It is no news that Median has been on the mind of Amity Park's prime ghost hunter for the past few years, but what exactly is it that makes him stand above all the others?_

"_If one was to pay careful attention to the ghost, it would be easily noted that he looks and acts almost as our previous Public Enemy did in the past,—"_

Danny tensed at that reference. From the little he knew of Median, they acted _nothing_ alike, though he had to admit that the ghost did wear very similar attire (despite the fact that his wasn't a jumpsuit). The reasons why remained unclear to him, though.

"—_which leads to the question of Median's and Danny Phantom's connection. Exactly what else do they share? Is Median a form of Danny Phantom? Are or were they related in any way? _

"'They seem to have caused the same amount of trouble,'_ Don Cole, a paranormal investigator and former employee of Axion labs states. _'The connection between the two can also be inferred by the fact that Median appeared after Danny Phantom's sudden disappearance, earning him the title of Amity Park's 'Second Phantom'.'"

Danny's eyes would've flashed at that if they weren't already shining to their fullest for other reasons. Median knew the Black Guard—

The ghost tossed the newspaper at the foot of his bed and got to his feet. The image in the oracle had been clear, so the fight must've been going on in the present. He ran back to the giant sphere, but only the white fog was visible.

_Come on, show me what I need._

He knew the attempt was useless. The only one with the power to control the oracle was Clockwork—

_Clockwork._

Danny's stomach knotted at the name. Clockwork told him to stay away from the Black Guard . . . and the whole of Amity Park as well. How was he going to get away with returning to the 'real' world without catching too much attention from the citizens and angering the time-keeper?

A smile formed at Danny's lips as he spotted the ghost's specialized computer near the corner of the room. White sparks of energy were flowing through the wires and windows were open on the screen.

_By becoming Median . . . _

He made his way to the device and set his fingers upon the keyboard, looking up at the giant screen to search for the right file. The guilt kept nagging at him somewhere in the back of his mind, but his desires were easily overpowering it. After all, Clockwork knew better than to leave the computer running and unguarded when he was there.

And just like that, it won.

Danny's smile dwindled and was soon replaced by a look of shame. He knew better as well, didn't he? Of all the good Clockwork's done for him, he was going to go against his word?

Those stupid chains . . .

The boy looked down at his hands, now resting over several keys. Invisible binds were drawn around his wrists from his mind's eye, though they seemed real enough. It was a form of guilt created by his subconscious awareness and it never seemed to fail. They were controlling his every move — his fate — keeping him from everything that meant _something_ to him. . .

. . . For three years. Only now had he learned how long it really was under Clockwork's "care."

Danny's eyes flashed at the thought. If the ghost really had a good reason for holding him back, why not just tell him? Why did he have to drive him to this state of madness?

There were no answers, and there were no good reasons.

Without giving the subject any more thought, Danny proceeded searching through the time keeper's files until he reached the one he required. Typing at a quick pace, he entered the description of Median's attire and stepped back.

The itinerant electric surges outlining the wires blended together and made their way to the mainframe. A new window had opened on the screen and emitted an incandescent white light. He closed his eyes and stretched out his hands, this time willing to allow it to engulf him.

The illumination spread throughout the formerly dim room, reflecting upon the walls and sending a beautiful white glow across the magical barrier encased around the glass oracle.

Gradually, it faded away, leaving nothing but the blinking lights of the running processor and the undisturbed glow of the sphere beside it.

Hidden in the shadows, two red eyes remained fixed on the spot where the ghost had been standing.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Danny opened his eyes, only to find himself trapped in a dazzling abyss as an unidentifiable breeze blew gently against his back. Though soft as it was, the force was enough to push him forward at an indefinable rapidity. He could barely move his body (which was now floating within the nothingness).

Through the blinding white surroundings, he was able to make out a few silver streaks speeding past, confirming that, if there were any logic within this odd realm, he was moving at a tremendous speed. Confused, he turned his head to see what was behind him. There was nothing; absolutely nothing but that blinding light.

Then suddenly, as if he had come to an abrupt stop, a jolt pushed him in the opposite direction. Danny could've sworn he felt his insides flip entirely and held his breath as the rush come from the opposing direction now, blowing him back.

He clenched his teeth tightly and tried to fight it, but the "wind" tangled around him and prevented him from moving. The desperate ghost cried out for help, but there was no one to hear him.

He opened his eyes wide at the strain in his throat and realized that a green light was now taking over his vision. He wanted to shout again, but the force had left him choking, mouth wide open but no noise escaping.

He wanted to get out, find a way to escape this pain. Images flashed through his mind as he made useless attempts. Clockwork was staring down on him. Ghosts were surrounding him. A red light was blinding his vision. A masked woman was looking up at him, her shadowed eyes wide with astonishment as he held onto her.

_"Just can't control yourself, can you, Danny?"_

He let out a gasp and put his hand to his throat as the weight of his body returned, crashing down on him as if the earth itself was falling on his shoulders. However, when he opened an eye, he was surprised to see a wall in front of him, rather than the ceiling.

Danny's legs shook and he quickly leaned forward to support himself. It had worked. The earthly air was touching his skin for the first time in years. No more spandex covering his body. Now it was just a simple black and white t-shirt, baggy black pants, and white sneakers. He was wearing Median's attire.

An eager smile crept onto the ghost's face as he looked down at his ungloved hands. Judging by the atmosphere, he was no longer traveling through the abyss, though his exact location was still a mystery.

Danny slowly lowered his hands and turned around, his hopes now rising rapidly.

And just as quickly, the smile slipped from his face when his eyes caught sight of the pointed edge of something green pressed against his neck.

_- - - - - - - - - - - - _

Chapter 8: It was meant to be a simple talk, but Danny's discovering that the Black Guard wastes no time in her assaults. His only option now is to fight back, but can he do it with his nemesis constantly reminding him of someone he once knew . . . someone familiar?

_I wonder, who has figured out why I put Median into this fic? If you don't know now, then just wait for chapter 8's beginning. I added this entirely new character for just one little scene. Okay, it's not that little. It's very . . . ah, climactic in the sense of Sam and Danny's little separation. _

_Please review. This is the part of the story where things start to get interesting. I apologize for the 6 introductory chapters of explanation. _

_Reviewing takes about .9 percent of the time it takes me to write this for you._


	8. Repeat Offender

_Hmmm, I could've left a nice little sneak peek for this chapter in the last, but oh well. Too late now. Anyway, you can just read it now _

Thanks to: **AlisSilly. Twilightgal, gjcoolio, kybo, Poison's Ivy, v1rg1n1a, JK rulez**

_- - - - - - - - - -_

**Alternative**

Chapt 8- Repeat Offender

Danny eyed the vibrant green blade warily. The question of who was holding it nagged at the back of his mind, but he could not tear his gaze away. The sharp end of it was pressed against his cold and pale skin.

Carefully, he lifted his head to see a masked figure. She was focusing more on keeping a tight grip around her weapon than him. He could feel the blade sink deeper into his neck from the steady breathing. Why on earth did _he_ of all ghosts have to keep that factor? It probably became a subconscious reflex from his days as a halfa.

Danny didn't put too much thought into that, though, when he examined the figure's pale and yet somewhat majestic features. Her shadowed eyes were narrowed in determination and vigor. Her face, despite the familiar splendor he felt when looking at it, wore an expression that could burn through steel. Her appearance made it obvious that she was indeed a threat, but he couldn't help but continue staring. He hadn't seen her well enough in their previous encounter to feel such a strong sense of familiarity. She was so beautiful . . .

And yet here she was, holding a double ended spear at his throat. Even at the age of seventeen, his hormones took control of his mind — and they had a knack of falling for the girl with the weapons. It was no wonder then that he always ended up on the opposite end of them.

For a moment, neither of the two said anything. He continued watching her, his eyes narrowed slightly and a frown set upon his lips, but she did not care to examine his features. Her scowl reminded him so much of Sam . . .

Danny felt a sense of guilt wash over him at the thought of his best friend and began questioning why he came here in the first place. It wasn't to look for Sam and Tucker; it was to find out more about the Black Guard.

Some friend he was . . .

"You just don't know when to quit," a feminine voice said bitterly in exact correspondence to her lip movement. He let out a choked gasp at the sense of familiarity in her voice as she pressed the blade in closer, pinning him against the wall.

She sounded like someone he knew, though much darker — something he would expect from someone who had gone through a lot of suffering in their life. Did that explain how she wound up being a ghost hunter? For once, he could be sure it was not his fault. Perhaps the blame was Median's?

He was about to open his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

"Care to explain what your departing words meant?"

Danny raised a brow at this and lifted his head a little in an attempt to get into a more comfortable position, but to no avail.

"TALK!" the Black Guard demanded, causing her captive to cringe. Her harsh tone pulled him out of his thoughts almost immediately and he narrowed his eyes.

Without warning, she felt her arm twist as he pulled the weapon to the side and lowered it. She barely had a chance to react when the ghost brought his arm forward and emitted a green blast from his palm. It was a light force, but enough to knock her off her feet.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and muttered, "That was unexpected."

"You won't fool me," he replied, startling the hunter. She gasped and looked back, only to find that he was standing several feet away, arms crossed over his chest.

"My friend taught me not to judge people on their looks."

"You have friends?" she shot back while scrambling hastily to her feet. He tilted his head a little and gave her a weak smile. For someone who seemed so strong, she definitely acted a little . . . odd. Not as graceful as he would've expected. Once again, the thought of Sam entered his mind, but he shook it off.

The urge to see her intertwined with his desire to learn more about this new huntress, and while he was here, why not start with the latter?

"Haven't seen them in a while, but yeah. Why? Is that so hard to believe?"

She returned the smile, though hers seemed more like a smirk.

"You continue to amaze me," she said, turning her gaze to the floor and relaxing her shoulders. The gesture caught Danny off guard and he created a green shield on reflex. The hunter caught a glimpse of the glow and looked up.

"Since when did you resort to defense?" she asked. Danny realized his mistake and dropped the guard instantly. He was Median now . . .

The thought brought a look of disgust to the ghost's face. Unfortunately, Sam noticed the reaction. She raised her blades into her fighting stance and eyed her rival questioningly.

"Acting a little strange today, aren't we Median?"

"It's not unusual, is it?" he replied. His eyes darted to the slight movement made by her hands as she tightened her grip again.

Something didn't feel right. She couldn't place it, but there was a hint of familiarity in his tone. Beyond the deep exterior was a resonance she remembered from long ago.

"Who are you?" she wondered aloud. At this, Danny turned away and let a hollow and faint laugh escape his throat.

"Apparently the next Danny Phantom," he whispered bitterly, unable to hide the pain his heart felt at the thought.

He wanted to save them. He wanted to help them, protect them. And they just forgot about him.

They _all_ forgot about him.

Once more, the thought of Sam crossed his mind. He didn't bother pushing it away. He wanted to see her, whether it was real or just an image projected from his memories. He thought of Tucker, Valerie . . .

Did anyone miss him? Had they even tried to find him?

_Sam tried—_

His mind's focus immediately turned to the green flash of light before him. A second later, a furious shout filled his ears and a sickening feeling swept through him. His skin had burned and a green fluid was pouring from the newly formed gash. He screamed loudly and pressed a hand to his chest as his legs involuntarily gave away.

He collapsed to his knees, teeth clenched tightly as his thoughts raced. The pain was becoming more evident as his mind cleared.

He lifted his head slowly, but an unwelcoming heat pressed against the back of his neck, forcing him to keep his gaze on the floor. He noticed two black boots a few inches parallel to his knees.

The Black Guard looked down at him, violet eyes sharp and brimming with hatred. She pressed the blade against his neck, forcing him to keep his sight on the tiled floor. She didn't want him looking at her. She didn't want to stare into those cold and scornful green eyes. He didn't deserve to look at her . . .

"Do not . . . ever," she began, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady, "mention his name . . . again."

Danny winced as she pressed down once more, pushing him closer to his knees and adding to the pain in his chest. He released his hand from the wound only to find that a cold green liquid was now staining his bare fingers.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered, pleading silently that she would stop pressing her weapon into him. The words meant nothing when they left his mouth, and in his view he had nothing to apologize for. Still, the position was uncomfortable and it'd be best to stay on the hunter's good side. Intangibility was an easy way out, but he was never going to gain her trust like that.

To his relief, the burning sensation in his neck began to diminish. She raised her blade slowly and, in turn, he lifted his head, still making sure to keep his eyes on her black boots. Then suddenly, she lowered down to his level, startling him.

Danny looked up and caught a glimpse of her face only inches away. Judging by her furious glare, the apology hadn't been accepted. Instead, she grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him up, keeping their faces only inches away from each other as the wind blew gently against his back, blowing her hair out of her way.

He could feel the heat rising in his pale cheeks as he looked down at her. He tried to bite back any stupid attempts of leaning closer . . .

_Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam! Think about Sam!_

_Sam's not here . . ._

_Shut up! Think of Sam, think of—_

"Those words mean nothing coming from you," the Black Guard muttered darkly, disturbing the awkward moment and clenching her fist tighter so that he could feel her knuckles press into him.

"Why do you care so much?" he blurted suddenly. Her lip twitched slightly and she narrowed her eyes. He tried to stand straight, but the fact that she was a little less than a foot shorter proved it to be a wasted effort.

"Why I care does not concern you," she said in the same tone, extending her arm and throwing him back. He landed on the floor and let out a pained gasp as the gash tightened.

Danny tried to force himself up, but she knocked him back down with her foot, adding again to the injury. His eyes darted to her mask, luminescent green meeting a shadowed amethyst.

She wanted nothing more than to make him suffer for everything 'he' did to her. And yet still, he couldn't help but remind himself that she cared about _Danny Phantom_. That was the only thing that kept him from losing his temper.

"Who are you?"

The voice was much softer now. It reached his ears like a whisper, almost making him forget the position he was in.

_Almost . . ._

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wincing at the pressure of her heavy boot resting on his injury. His hands were wrapped around her foot, trying to push her off.

"I gave you that answer," Danny replied calmly, still trying to get her to remove her weight from his chest. Stubbornly, she pressed harder.

"Your answer wasn't good enough," she said, leaning down to look at his face closely as it contorted uncomfortably. He, however, kept his eyes shut and turned his head to the side.

"W-Who are _you_?" he asked, turning the question around on her. She narrowed her eyes and exerted more force, causing him to cry out.

"Do not mess with me, ghost," she warned, feeling somewhat guilty as he gritted his teeth in agony, helplessly trying to push her off without stressing his wound.

"I-I'm Median," he replied, now wishing more than anything that he could turn back time and return to Clockwork's tower.

"No, you're not. _Who are you? _I want the truth."

He bit his lip, finally giving up and placing his hands on the floor. His desire to turn intangible was urging him on, but there was also the factor of common sense.

She was much quicker than him; her weapons contained powerful traces of ectoplasm. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she'd be able to prevent his escape with them. The last thing he needed was to be stabbed by something that was immune to his powers.

"It's five past ten. The real Median would've been long gone by now. What are you? Another form of him?"

She waited for him to look at her, but he never did. The ghost simply showed no sign of interest in responding to her questions.

_Answer me!_

So many things left unsaid. Now was her chance to fit all of the pieces of the puzzle — the other half of Median. Was this his good side?

_'I'm sorry.'_

Those words alone nearly had her choking no air. Why he had said them had her in complete bafflement. It had caught her off guard, though something in the back of her mind told her it wasn't supposed to. He hadn't said it for that purpose.

_No, _her mind screamed as her eyes caught the ghost sinking into the floor. She gasped and brought her blade down in an attempt to break through his intangibility, but instead stumbled forward as her foot hit the floor unexpectedly.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as a smooth hand grasped the back of her outer black shirt, catching her before she plummeted into the ground. Without thinking twice, she swung her blade around to the left and pierced it into the ghost's side. He jerked suddenly to the right and let out a surprised gasp.

Sam pulled out of his grasp and retrieved her weapon, grimacing at the green blood now dripping from its tip. He landed on his back once more, his breathing rasp. That caught her wonderment. A ghost breathing?

The more attention she paid to his characteristics, the more puzzled she grew.

His eyes, now wide with rage, turned to her. A dark glare was set upon his features. She stepped back absentmindedly and caught her breath. The sight frightened her. Median never gave her that look before. He never seemed like the type to actually have enough strength to challenge her like that. It was enough to intimidate her, and that definitely wasn't good.

The ghost forced himself back onto his feet, his expression remaining the same, though she could see that he was trying hard to keep it that way. Slowly, he tore his gaze away and raised a hand.

Sam stepped back, but he rested his palm on his newest injury and waited. Her eyebrows pressed closer together as she stared in bewilderment, mouth slightly open.

A white flash escaped his fingers and crept into the pool of green. The two shades blended until the lighter conquered, slowly absorbing the blood around it and closing the cut before it, too, faded away.

Sam stared in shock at the scene. She was too focused on the bizarre new ability to notice that his face had paled even more.

The intensity of the light began to diminish, as did the pain that came with it. At that moment, his features softened and he opened his eyes. Sam looked up at his face for the first time since then and waited. Somehow, she couldn't help but wonder if his new strength hurt him more than it had helped.

The disappearance of the mark left by her most recent assault proved her wrong. Her facial expression hardened and she returned the glower. His lips curled into an amused smirk and, immediately, her fierce appearance melted away.

A hint of red reached her pale cheeks. She could not look away. Somewhere in her head, half her mind was screaming at her. And yet, the other half just blanked out.

Something was _definitely_ not right.

He left his deeper cut alone for some reason and began approaching her, though she remained still, thoughts persistently running through her mind. The answers remained lost. She had one explanation for the strange and somewhat appealing behavior, but her heart refused to accept it. It was as if the only logical reason was hidden behind a barricade, being held back by the fact that she was too stubborn to believe it. The barrier was simply held by her denial.

_Danny is dead,_ Sam reminded herself difficultly. The words struck her heart with a fierce blow. It was as if a tremendous force had come crashing down on her, breaking every inch of the faint morale that kept her on her feet. Her legs shook suddenly, and she leaned her palms back against the wall to keep herself standing.

It was then that her eyes returned to focus and fixed upon the darkened face of Median through her mask — his glowing green eyes locked with hers.

"_Sam!"_

A frightened gasp escaped her throat and her gaze on the approaching ghost weakened. That sounded a lot like—

"Danny?" she whispered. Black and white began mixing before her, intertwining into a blend of darkness and light. Her vision was blurring, as was the face of the ghost before her as he steadily came closer, every step echoing in her ears. She was pressed against the wall, barely able to keep herself from falling.

"_Danny, stop! Don't come any closer!"_

_Come back,_ her heart screamed now, recalling the memory as the image recreated itself in her mind.

"_But you're over there and I'm over here. I want to be over there."_

She brought her hands up to her head, pressing back against the firm support. Her back curved and her legs slid forward a few inches, her body slowly reaching the floor.

"_Tucker? Sam? I-I . . . am a ghost. I have no friends."_

"_You're not just a ghost! Fight him!"_

_. . . . Fight him!_

She dropped the floor and swung her leg over to the left, but he phased through it.

Danny's fourteen year-old face began forming within the darkness of her closed eyes, at first just a blur of various colors. It comforted her to see the lively shades. The fear of the troubles around her began to fade as her mind suddenly cleared. She felt . . . happy.

For the first time in years, she truly felt wonderful. The bliss of seeing him again comforted the girl. Her tense body began to loosen up. Everything around her was pushed to the edge of her mind, no longer the center of her attention.

He was here, watching her, a blurred blue evident amongst his other wonderful features. Sam could feel her eyes watering again, and the boy's form began to swirl, every color streaking into the other.

"No," she whispered softly, "come back . . ."

"_I can't."_

That long-lost voice she had been yearning to hear entered her mind so vividly. It sounded so clear, making her eyes snap open, wide with dread.

"_Stay with Tucker."_

"No—"

"_I'll right back . . ."_

"NO!"

Danny stumbled back, startled by the girl's reaction as she suddenly rose to her feet and shot him a death glare, eyes blazing with a fiery hate.

"STOP IT!" she screamed, swinging her blades into the air and flailing them wildly at him. He gasped and moved back in correspondence to each assault.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he tried, making a successful attempt at catching one of her weapons before it hit him. However, it was for that reason that he was caught by surprise when the other made contact with the side of his head, knocking him to the floor almost instantly.

His surroundings merged together for a second before coming back into focus. He groaned and turned over onto his side. The Black Guard was already kneeling beside him, tears running down her red cheeks.

He heard a soft _clang_ as the metal made contact with the tiled floor. Her left hand caught a hold of his throat and directed him until he was left lying on his back, a slight discomfort now taking over.

With her other hand, weapon in tact, she flipped the blade between her fingers until she had a content and tight grip on it.

Danny's luminous green eyes widened, taking notice that the pointed tip was only inches away from his chest, directly where his silent heart was.

_The beast roared in pain as one point of the double-ended spear pierced through its chest, right where its heart would've been, had it had one. She caught onto the jutting end of it and prepared to make her final strike, pulling her other blade back in preparation. A look of triumph had imprinted itself amongst her malevolent stature._

A choked sob pierced through his flashback like ice shattering the humility felt by watching the fight from the sidelines, taking no part in it whatsoever. But it wasn't like that anymore, and the sudden disturbance only pulled him roughly back into reality, where _he_ was the victim.

The girl's pain shone even from the concealment of her shrouded mask. He looked carefully into her eyes, realizing for the first time how much his heart ached to see them again . . .

. . . That beautiful shade of amethyst.

Her tears leaked onto her hand and slowly slid down to the visible remainder of his neck, warming the cold temperature his body had endured for so long. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his reflexes picked up a sudden movement — a shade of green reaching the border of his sight.

Only one word slipped his tongue as he watched her shut her eyes.

"Sam . . ."

And at the exact moment, she choked out, "Danny!" But the reference was to the Danny she was seeing behind the wall of darkness her eyelids had projected. The fourteen year old Danny . . .

She swung the blade down swiftly, eyes snapping open one last time to look at him. It was that same look of loathing she hinted before. The look that spoke clearly, _'You will pay.'_

And her angelic voice reached his ears.

"You're a repeat—!"

"—offender . . ."

- - - - - - - - -

Chapter 9: Danny's finally getting answers, but just as things start to get better, they start to get worse . . .

_I love reviews! Please, make my day. I have to wake up now at 6:30 AM (5:30 on Wed) for school (I don't even fall asleep until 3 AM), and I'm still making an effort to write this stuff. Please press that purple button blow that reads _'Submit Review'_ and submit a review . . . I would appreciate it greatly . . . you have no idea. _

_Honestly, one of things writers look forward to most is receiving a comment about their work _:)


	9. Seeking Answers

_My apologies for the long update. School's been . . . well, school. Please, do me a favor and review. It cheers me up. Afharisto!_

My thanks to: **JK rulez, gjcoolio, Poison's Ivy, AlisSilly, Horselvr4evr123, katiesparks, V1rg1n1a**

I strongly appreciate that you took your time to comment on my work. Thank you!

Quick Note: Katiesparks_, congrats on finding yourself a boyfriend. A word of advice, be careful and keep your mind sharp. Sometimes, hormones can cause ignorance. I hope you and your boyfriend get far in your relationship. _JK rulez_, get your butt on the computer and finish chapter 12! _Phantom Prophecy_, excellent fic. Check it out if you can, guys!_

_Okay, I completely forgot what this chapter was about. Hang on . . . nah, I do enough thinking at school. Just read and find out. Afharisto, once again!_

_- - - - - - - - - - -_

**Alternative**

Chapt 9- Seeking Answers

The voice sent a cold and unwelcoming chill down Danny's spine — even by ghostly standards. His eyes darted to the green blade suspended less than a centimeter from his chest. The wielder had stopped in the midst of her attack, glossed eyes no longer gleaming in the rare beauty he saw just a second ago.

Carefully, he shifted his body out from under her, but she did not move. A slight blur was noticeable from the quick movement of her arm, but even that remained still. Her teeth were clenched from the cease of her unfinished sentence.

The Black Guard, and everything around her, was frozen in time.

He raised a hand to the added weight around his neck and felt a smooth medallion hanging just above his cut. The entwined letters, CW, were engraved upon the gold surface.

Danny's mind filled with dread. Had he been alive, his heart would've been beating faster than humanly possible.

"Just can't control yourself, can you, Danny?"

The ghost flinched at the calm voice behind him. Slowly, he swallowed and shifted his head to meet Clockwork's eyes.

The time keeper's form was currently that of a child. The violet staff he held in his small hands was nearly three times his size.

His shamed green eyes remained fixed on the ghoul's stark red ones. No expression could be made out by the specter before him. His features suggested neither anger nor disappointment.

He saved Danny the trouble of continual guilt by averting his gaze to the boy's wounded chest. Letting out an exhausted sigh, he added, "But I do not blame you."

At those words, Danny spirits rose. His eyebrows kicked up in wonder, but he received no further reply. Clockwork turned his attention to the girl several feet behind his apprentice and carefully glided over to her. Danny turned around questioningly.

As soon as his gaze fell upon the huntress, realization struck.

"Clockwork . . . th-that's . . ."

He couldn't bring himself to say it. Somehow, he could not accept the fact that Sam was Amity Park's famous Black Guard. Of all the people . . .

"Does it surprise you?" the calm voice questioned as he watched the young ghost run through his thoughts. Danny inhaled deeply and placed a hand to the back of his neck.

"Well, no, I guess not. I mean, she would make an excellent ghost hunter. She helped me out all the time, but . . . but she didn't recognize me . . ."

His pace increased as he spoke, but the more he dwelled on these facts, the more hurtful they became. Why didn't she recognize him? Sure he was wearing Median's attire, but he was her _best friend_.

_Was . . ._

"No," he said aloud, still struggling with his separate views. "She couldn't have forgotten me, could she?"

The question was directed at the remaining ghost in the room in an almost desperate tone.

"Of course not," was his reply. It was vague, but he did not question it. After all, Clockwork knew 'everything'.

Danny turned saddened eyes back at the darkly dressed girl kneeling on the ground.

_"Do not ever mention his name again_,_"_ her voice echoed in his mind as he got down on his knees beside her. He raised a cold hand and proceeded to wipe a tear off her face. She did not shiver . . .

"_Why do you care so much?" _his own voice questioned.

"_Why I care does not concern you."_

In turn, a chilling tear raced down his own cheek as he suddenly caught sight of the significance behind her words.

_He could almost feel her hand close around his wrist, begging him not to go. He looked back at her young and troubled face one last time and assured her he'd be back before taking off. _

Now Danny stared intently into her shielded eyes, allowing his tears to flow freely. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and placed the tips of his fingers on the edge of her mask. Breathing in deeply, he closed his hand around it, lifting it up to her forehead so that he could see her directly before whispering, "I'm back."

Clockwork's eyes remained fixed on the kneeling ghost boy's back. His expression remained without emotion as he watched the sentimental scene before him. He knew he would have to break them up very shortly, but couldn't bring himself to it — not just yet.

A slight smile formed on his lips and his eyes softened when Danny spoke with an evident affection. Apparently, the boy had forgotten he was there. Either that or the moment mattered more to him than his denied feelings toward the Goth girl.

"Are you ready?" he asked patiently as Danny slowly got to his feet. His head was lowered and his eyes were, no doubt, still focused on her.

"_Ready?_" Danny repeated, turning his attention back to the currently elderly time keeper.

"We must go," Clockwork replied softly. As expected, Danny's brows lowered at the ends and he shot the ghost a pained look.

"B-But, I . . . I just—"

"It is how it must be, Danny."

"I haven't seen her in three years!" Danny insisted, but his words did little to persuade Clockwork's decision.

"I'm sorry—"

"Clockwork, please!" he pleaded. "Can't you at least give her a medallion? I need to speak to her. I have to hear her voice one more—"

"I'm afraid I can't."

With that, the ghost turned his back on Danny and lifted his staff.

"Besides, allowing her to see us will do little for you, I'm afraid, Median."

That word struck Danny with remembrance. His eyes widened at the name and then softened as he raised his hands before his eyes. His features hardened and he lowered his fists.

"I'm not Median . . ."

"Come, Danny."

Regretfully, Danny turned one last time to look at the Goth he had been so longing to see. It didn't seem possible that he'd waited three years to talk to her and the chance, once again, had been pulled away from him.

His entire afterlife was just a losing game. He was trapped within it, and every turn led him to something he loved. And as soon as he would step forward, a barrier would smack him in the face. He was the protagonist of this game, and the dice were not rolling in his favor.

"I can't leave her. Not again."

He let the words slip from his mouth without a second thought. He didn't care if he was stuck moving at the speed of light compared to her.

"I'm afraid you have no choice, Danny," Clockwork responded with that boundless tolerance.

"And why not?" he shot back, frustration and angst etched in his voice. "Why is the choice never mine to make!"

"I will explain it to you, but now we must go."

The serene tone in which he spoke drove Danny's anger to a dangerously high level. It was easy for him to remain calm; he didn't have to suffer. The only friends Clockwork kept in touch with were the Observants. And in said association, the term 'friend' would be used very loosely.

He didn't have to deal with the pain of remembrance, longing, regret. Every alternative was his to make. There was no one bounding him. He had the power and he used it however he wished.

Danny's eyes darted to his wrists, once again visualizing those dreaded chains. He wanted to break them — to pull his wrists apart and shatter them, but even as he did, they remained there, extended by his mind's eye.

The floor visible just beyond his hands turned a magnificent shade of lavender, though the color only brought sadness to his permanently green eyes.

It didn't matter how much he fought — the choice wasn't his . . .

Defeated, Danny allowed his gaze to wander back to the darkly dressed teenager behind him. She didn't know what was going on. She would be unfrozen in a matter of seconds and everything would be back to normal.

He gave her a weak smile, one that matched his saddened eyes. She didn't know how it felt to suffer the way he had. She was alive, she was Amity Park's superhero, and she had her friends. Her life was moving along. There were no chains to control her every move. She was free to choose her own destiny.

And if he had to suffer to keep her this way, then so be it. Her life was worth more than his. And after all, Clockwork had his reasons . . .

Danny waited quietly as the smoke began to revolve around his legs, spiraling up to engulf the rest of his body. He pondered on whether or not to place her mask back over her eyes, but the thought of touching her again would only remind him of what he would never have—

—Sam.

And so he remained rooted to the spot, as the time keeper's magic revolved around him. He struggled to refrain himself from assuring her he'd see her again, as it was a promise he could not make.

The elderly ghost placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, but Danny merely looked away, from both him and the girl. His red eyes closed and he raised his staff.

"Time in."

"—Offender!" she finished beyond the purple smoke, striking the tile with enough force for them to hear it crumble on impact.

The sound vibrated in his ears as a gentle force lifted him off his feet. His weightless body sped through the blurred surroundings before everything around them slowed down.

He could feel his mass returning as the specters became solid again — or however solid a ghost could get.

The spiraling smoke around them began to disperse as Clockwork lowered his staff, placing it against the wall. Danny walked over to his bed and, in one swift movement, fell back onto his pillow, breathing out heavily with his arms outstretched.

Home sweet home—

_Or as close at it gets,_ he assumed gloomily.

"Not very welcoming, is it?" Clockwork asked from the end of the room. Danny's attention darted immediately to the sudden question. He lifted the upper half of his body into a sitting position and rested his folded arms on his knee, allowing the other leg to hang loosely off the side of the bed.

"You have no friends here. And I'm sure you're tired of seeing me," the ghost continued, gliding toward him. Danny didn't respond. He lowered his gaze to the mattress and sighed, trying to contemplate which answer was best to give. Instead, he settled for a question.

"Why do you keep me away from them?" he asked, lifting his head to meet the elder ghost's eyes. "And please, don't say _'I have my reasons'_."

"I won't," Clockwork assured. Danny's eyes softened as he waited for the rest of that reply. "It's about time I told you. After all, you only have a few hours left."

And just as quickly, the good mood was thrown aside.

"Left for what?" he questioned a little more darkly. Clockwork sighed, pondering where to begin.

"It was never supposed to be—"

"Excuse me?"

"The Fatality," he continued, "was never supposed to have happened. In an alternate turn of events, you would still be alive, proceeding to the movies with your friends."

Danny's mind was baffled. What on earth was he talking about?

"You want to know why I kept you away from everything and everyone you loved? My real intention was just to distance you from one person."

"Who?" Danny blurted, his curiosity now brimming with interest. Though the answer came to him before Clockwork could reply. "The Black Guard . . . Sam?"

The ghost nodded in reply and continued.

"Wherever she was, whoever she hung out with, I had to make sure you stayed away from them. You are going to ask me why, so I will tell you. It would be rude if you returned to them, but not to her. And then she would turn away from you. I couldn't have that. I need her to care for you. I need her to long to see you. In a way, I am glad she didn't discover who you really were tonight."

Danny's eyes narrowed at his last words.

"Why?" he asked, not meaning for it to come out that hostile.

"Three long years you've been separated," the Master of Time continued, disregarding the boy's tone. "Do you think I would have it that way for my own amusement, Danny?"

"I really don't know what to think anymore," he muttered, turning away and leaning back against his pillow.

"It wasn't to punish you, Danny. I did it for you, whether you'll believe that or not."

He paused for a while, thinking of how to explain that claim.

"If you had to choose to see either Sam or myself, who would you pick?"

_Sam,_ Danny thought immediately, though he refrained himself from blurting it out.

"You would choose Sam," Clockwork guessed, adding to Danny's suspicion of the Master of Time being a mind-reader. "And why is this?"

"Because she's my best friend and you kept her from me for _three years_," Danny emphasized. To his surprise, Clockwork only smiled.

"And do you see what has happened?"

He looked down at the boy, but as expected, he did not reply.

"You miss her, Danny. You miss her enough to even go against me. You used to be loyal to me. Everything I said, you would follow. Of course, there were questions, but you did not go against my word."

"Until now," Danny grumbled almost shamefully. He would've felt guilt had it not been for the rising temper of hearing Clockwork's riddles over and over again. "But what does that have to do with—?"

"Lately, you have been disobeying me," Clockwork interrupted, all the while answering his question in a steady pace. "Twice you've returned to the place I told you not to. You spoke to the Black Guard after I prohibited it, and I'm sure you'd do it again if given the chance."

He let out a soft laugh at those words to lessen the tension, but Danny remained silent, his eyes now examining the wall opposing Clockwork. The elder ghost let out a sigh and transformed into his young adult form.

"What was it that drove you to disobey me?" he asked, catching Danny's attention. He would not continue his explanation without an answer. The younger ghost knew that and, therefore, turned to him.

"The fact that you've been making my afterlife everything I'd hoped it'd never come to since the moment I stepped into this decaying realm as a ghost," he said harshly. Clockwork did not seem offended. He wanted Danny to keep repeating this fact. He wanted him to realize why he did what he did.

"And yet at that time, you seemed to follow my orders just fine—"

"Because back then I thought you'd tell me! And back then I didn't have to wait as long as I've waited! I miss them! You know I miss them. So why not let me go back—?"

"Time."

The word was said so suddenly that Danny choked on his words before he could finish. _Time? _That was his answer?

"Time?" he repeated, trying to remain patient, despite the intolerance coloring his tone.

"Time," the ghost said again with a smile, fully aware of the fact that Danny choosing to jump up and strangle him was a strong possibility. "The longer I kept you from her, the more your desires to see one another grew."

"But how does that relate to—?"

"And the stronger her desire to see you is, the more I am certain she will succeed."

"In what?" Danny asked, relieved that the discussion had now emerged from thick ice to shallow water. Now they were getting somewhere . . .

"In the task fate has set upon her. As I was saying before, Danny, The Fatality was never meant to be."

"Then why'd it happen?" he asked.

"Plasmius," Clockwork replied patiently. "He was tired of losing to you, so he came up with a solution."

"He mutated himself?" Danny interrupted, recalling the altered form of the ghost he fought three years back.

"Unintentionally, but yes. He mutated himself. In an attempt to enhance his strength, he accidentally messed up the potion and failed the experiment, terribly. Unfortunately, that last ingredient was the most vital. And the one he used instead was fatal combined with the others. Instead of becoming stronger, his mind grew weaker. And as his mind grew weaker, his body gained control. However, he remained unstable, the atrophy taking over his consciousness, but not completely washing it away.

"To put things simply, he ended up thrusting himself into an alternate time stream, appearing in your town the next day."

Danny listened attentively, now sitting at the edge of his bed, putting all the pieces of the story together. It all made sense.

"Shortly after that little incident, he disappeared again, returning to the alternate time stream, only to arrive at a different era —_ three years later_."

Danny's eyes widened with dread. Three years later?

"Clockwork, h-he's not coming . . . _here_, is he?"

The ghost returned a look of sorrow as he turned his head to face the wall behind them. Right beside the door and his staff was a calendar. Danny swallowed hesitantly.

"He-he's coming—"

"—tomorrow."

Danny's breath caught in his throat. His hands shook violently, and his unmoving heart seemed to pulse rapidly in his mind. His glowing green eyes were fixed on the small sheet of paper that read Sunday, May 4th.

Clockwork continued, though his first few words seemed distant until Danny returned his attention to him.

"A while after I found you in the Ghost Zone, the Observants came to me, bearing news of The Fatality. Of course, I heard of it, but we watched Amity Park within the oracle. The city was shaken. The news of Danny Fenton's death spread immediately. Someone even managed to catch it on tape and replayed the events for everyone to see. Your friend, Samantha, was spotted amidst the crowd, along with Tucker. Even to this day, they refuse to believe that anyone truly saw what happened. And who could blame them? After all, they witnessed it _first hand_."

Clockwork's rambling about Sam and Tucker made Danny feel sick inside. He knew what they must've gone through, but he never would've imagined the entire town would've seen it. He could only assume the two of them received more attention than they wanted. He had it hard, but they had to see him get vaporized, his entire body disappearing within the red blaze. It never occurred to him that they had been watching it.

"They searched for you," the ghost continued. "But they could not find you. And when ghosts became a threat to the recovering town of Amity Park, Sam decided to step up in your place as the Black Guard.

"The Observants and I knew it would happen. It was just a step leading her closer to what was to come."

"And what exactly is that?" Danny wondered, now fearing what might become of his best friend.

"He will return tomorrow," Clockwork reminded him. "And apparently stronger than before, for reasons I still refuse to accept."

He hesitated, and Danny noticed a feeling of dread within the ghost's expression. And though his curiosity was wondering what was running through the time keeper's mind, a part of him did not want to know.

"It is up to her to return three years back and convince Mr. Masters to cease his experiment," Clockwork continued, brushing away the faintest hint of fear.

"Why?" Danny asked, many questions springing up in his mind. "How will he be stronger? Why does Sam have to go back? Why does she have to return on the exact day he comes back? Wouldn't it be easier—?"

"It is the way the oracle has foreshown it, and it is the way it must be. I can assure you, all of these questions will be answered in time."

"I need the answers now!" Danny insisted. "I have to help her! Why can't _I_ go back? Or you?"

"I will be in my place, making sure everything is played out the way it is supposed to," Clockwork replied calmly. "And as for the question of _you_ returning, there are two answers. One, you do not value your life as she does. Just as you now have the urge to see her, she has that same will to see you. And the more her desire to be with you grows, the more I am confident that she will do things right. As for Tucker, I think it's safe to say that you and I both know he's a bit . . . accident-prone."

Danny couldn't help but smile at that. _Clumsy_ was more like it.

"And two," Clockwork went on, "when given the choice of who returns, the decision is up to you. But I already know what you'll choose and why. I . . . know _everything_."

With that said, Clockwork turned his back on Danny and proceeded to the exit. The young ghost stood up behind him, but only hesitant stammers escaped his mouth.

A smile formed on the time keeper's ageless face as he recalled seeing one specific detail that he deliberately failed to mention.

_He will know everything, in time._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Danny watched the glimmer of white dancing amongst the shadows on the wall, projected by the oracle's silvery contents. As he stared at it, thoughts raced through his troubled mind.

He was told the answers would reveal themselves in time, but his curiosity just wouldn't rest. Why was Sam to go back on the specific day that _he_ was to return? Wouldn't it be easier for her to return without the chances of him stopping her?

Why did she, of all people, have to be the one to set things right? Of course, she cared for him, as Clockwork had stated, but he, Danny, longed to live again as well. So why couldn't he take her place?

_"When given the choice of who returns, the choice is up to you . . ."_

_Then why would I choose to send her back, _he thought angrily. Why would he deliberately send Sam into such a perilous danger?

A single question nagged him, and he couldn't stop it from surfacing to the center of his mind.

Why tomorrow? Why should this task be set on the exact same day?

His green eyes examined the white light as it bounced around, freely, on the wall. His arms were crossed behind his head as he rested on his tangled up bed sheets.

The questions were driving him crazy. He didn't want to wait for the answers. He needed to know. He needed to be prepared. He wanted to help Sam as much as possible.

He wanted to live again . . .

A wisp of blue escaped his throat and he jumped up, startled. Unfortunately, the sudden movement tilted the mattress' edge and he slid off, right onto the floor.

Groaning, Danny lifted himself up groggily and glanced around. The energetic light on the wall disappeared almost instantly as a purple flash took over, coloring the entire room for about three seconds before it disappeared.

Danny's thoughts clouded as a flashback entered his mind.

_That purple star in the sky . . ._

"Clockwork?" he questioned hopefully, but the shade had been much darker than Clockwork's tranquil lavender. Not to mention his ghost sense never went off around Clockwork. He had spent so much time with the ghost that their temperatures merged and became the same, no matter how disgusting it seemed.

A hollow laugh echoed through the corridor and Danny gasped, turning his head immediately to the closed door. Hesitantly, he turned to face it and began walking.

The laughter continued to ring in his mind. Where had he heard it before?

Closing a shaky hand around the doorknob, he inhaled deeply and breathed out, gathering his courage before opening the door.

He stepped out into the hallway, making sure to close the door behind him. Several others lined the walls, but he continued walking, staring at the thin opening beneath the doors to see which one was emitting that strange purple glow.

After about a minute of searching the lengthy passageway, he caught sight of a very thin door and froze. All courage was thrown aside as he shut his eyes tightly, breathing rapidly.

_No, please no._

Slowly opening them again, he lowered his head to the crevice beneath the door. Faint streaks of purple were emerging from it and coloring his bloodstained green and white sneakers.

Danny placed a hand on the silver doorknob and twisted it, allowing the door to creak open on its own as he released his grip. A desk was centered within the average sized room. Beside it were a few glimmers of white, still shining vibrantly as if they had just been created.

A swirling purple vortex recreated itself in his memories. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that one just like it had recently vanished, leaving the white sparks behind as a trace. They, too, faded away shortly.

A magical barrier was enclosed around them and the small desk, preventing him from stepping through it. A little beyond it was a sight that brought a gasp to his throat. His green eyes clouded as he stared, transfixed, at the immoral face of a demon imprinted in the smooth surface of the cylindrical item.

The cap of the thermos lay broken and cracked beside him.

- - - - - - - - - -

_Chapter . . . er . . . 10, I think . . . yeah, 10 (ignore me, I'm very exhausted) is proofread and emailed for betaing by my best friend. _

_Please, review. I need a little support. I won't go telling you that I won't update until I get a certain amount of reviews because I owe more than that to those who _do_ comment. But it is a little ridiculous (as _JK rulez_ said) when you find about 300 hits for a chapter and only a few reviews. If you like it, please comment. I love hearing opinions . . . is it good, bad, do you need a betaer? Any comment will be appreciated. Emails are fun, indeed. _

Chapter 10: Shortly after a mysterious dream, Sam finds herself in the middle of the third year anniversary of T.F. Coincidentally, things are starting to fall apart around them and Amity Park is now on high alert.


	10. Forever Phantom

Sorry for the long update . . . again. School has been choking me. Ok, I finally got in contact with my betaer (a non-existent word, yes. She has just pointed that out). And now Chapter 10 is ready for update. I just need to stop talking long enough to post it sometime this year.

AFHARISTO to: **JK rulez, gjcoolio, Kybo, RhiannonGrey, Horselvr4evr123, Amonl'isa, Poison's Ivy, Foorley, v1rg1n1a.**

We have emerged from thick sand to solid ground in the plot now. The action starts very soon.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Alternative**

Chapt 10- Forever Phantom

_Distinct shades of yellow pools of artificial light reflected upon shop windows, emanating from various sources — streetlights, buildings, houses, car headlights, sirens, stars, and, of course, the view of a glorious full moon starting to peak its way through the veil of grey clouds._

_The streets were full of noise; lively, confused, frightened. People were screaming, rushing past throngs to get to safety. The remaining individuals stood, slack-jawed, in a forming crowd. A public plasma screen T.V. had been screening the events, for everyone to see._

_The Amity Park Police Department (otherwise known as APPD) had prepared every squad and gathered around one particular area. In the center of the surrounding vehicles and sirens was a sleek and tall building, multi-colored lights shining through the windows. Atop the edifice was what had the town baffled._

_Sam slowly turned her head over her shoulder to see what had been going on below her. The building's roof guardrail was now pressing against her back. She clenched her teeth at the discomfort._

_In a stream of words, several flashes, and many distant shrieks, she felt the touch of the rail's imprint suddenly vanish, replaced by a violent force of wind._

_The screams grew louder as she continued to fall, thrusting her left hand out instinctively. Her own throat constricted, her lungs failing to release or take in oxygen. The force was crushing her, pulling her farther down with every aspect of gravity. _

_Two green eyes peeked over the rail just above her, an expression that redefined the word fear borne on the boy's face. He cried out and leaned further, reaching out a bloodstained hand._

_Their fingers almost met, but when he curled his into a fist, only air had been left in his grasp. _

"_NO!" he screamed, opening his hand again and desperately holding it out to her in a repeated attempt, but she was too far now._

_Sam closed her eyes and leaned her head back, allowing the breeze to whip her pale skin. The sirens blared into her eardrums, echoing in her vacant thoughts. Her mind was clouded. She could not see, she could not breathe, she could not fly . . . _

_. . . But she could feel—_

—_As an icy chill spread through her hand, closing around her wrist._

_And the sirens blasted in her ears, continually. She opened her eyes in hopes of catching sight of her unexpected savior, but the vision was blurry. And with each noisy drill of the monotonic drone, the scene would lose more focus, until she was left staring at a blend of darkened colors, which all soon faded to black._

_BUZZ . . . _

_BUZZ . . ._

_BUZZ . . ._

Sam slammed her fist down onto her alarm, ceasing the infuriating racket. It took a while before she opened her eyes, moaning slightly and turning her head to the left to see the remains of the shattered device beneath her clenched hand.

She hadn't even realized her subconscious action, but it all recollected itself into her mind at the sound of the repeated echo still rummaging through her thoughts.

_Darn it . . ._

Wearily, she hoisted herself onto her elbows and sighed, putting a hand to her head and brushing the loose strands of hair from her unkempt face. The sunlight was peeking in through the uncovered remnants of her curtained window, hitting her directly.

She let out an aggravated groan and turned away, sliding off her bed and getting onto her feet.

It was dark in her slumber — why not keep it that way?

"Sammykins, are you up?" an over-peppy voice called in the distance.

The Goth froze as her eyes snapped open to their fullest. She cringed at the sound of her mother and screamed inwardly.

_Hide, _her instinct told her, and she dived down to the floor on reflex.

"Why are you home? Why _now_? It's a Monday . . . morning!" she mumbled, grimacing.

The smell of toast trailed into her room and she wrinkled up her nose in disgust. That had been her breakfast for the past week and a half. The craving had ended.

Sam lifted herself onto her feet and stifled a yawn as she proceeded to the bathroom, throwing her purple bat-shaped slippers off along the way.

"Your breakfast is getting cold!" warned Mr. Manson several minutes later as she made her way back into her room.

"My breakfast will go flying out the window, anyway," she muttered under her breath in response while digging through her closet.

_Black, black, black, grey, black . . . ah, sweet normalcy._

She pulled out her daily outfit and frowned.

Falling off a building, missing her one chance of survival, and making it out alive anyway — Yeah, normal . . .

That's Sam, all right.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder what had been happening in this bizarre dream of hers. There were a lot of sirens—

She glanced over at the shattered alarm clock and cocked her eyebrow.

—People running, others standing, watching something. Why had she fallen? Who caught her? She knew one thing.

That green eyed boy that tried to save her and failed was no stranger. Who else would come so close to reaching her hand only to miss at the last second? It had happened so many times before.

A deep sigh escaped her as she slung her shoulders, messing around with her 'skirt' as she tried to fit it into the belt straps on her black jeans.

How she had longed for that touch. She was tired of only being able to 'almost' reach his fingertips. She was tired of him always leaving her right when all hope seemed to have returned. And she was tired of that constant tease her mind played on her — trying to make her reach for something that she could never get. It was all dreams, none of it was real.

Only now did she seem to realize that.

Sam dropped down to the floor in a squat and reached beside her bed for her boots. She grimaced and let out a grossed, "Ugh" at the sight of a green handprint on one of them.

Median's blood . . .

She lifted the boot up carefully with her thumb and index finger and carried it off to the bathroom. That disgusting, immoral, corrupt, disdainful, leeching urchin.

How on earth had he managed to escape? She pounded her fist on the sink's surface and pulled back immediately, biting her lip in pain.

One second he was there and then the next, her blade cracked the floor beneath him. Last time she checked, he didn't have the ability to move _that _fast.

Come to think of it, her ghostly competitor seemed a little off yesterday. Scratch that, he was completely out of it.

He allowed his mind to wander too easily. Median would know better than to do that during a battle with her. Not to mention he was exceedingly slow . . . well, not quite slow, but definitely not his average speed. And what was with the self-recovery? When had that come to affect?

She grabbed a soapy sponge and began scrubbing the surface of her shoe.

She recalled resting her foot on his chest, demanding to know why his behavior seemed so . . . _moral_. He struggled to push her off, adding to the question of his identity. Median would've phased right through, but he hesitated. He didn't fight back. He only evaded when necessary and tried to talk. It sort of reminded her of Valerie and—

The scraping halted as she rested her hand on the sponge, staring at the green stain with troubled eyes.

"The ghost boy," she whispered.

"Sunshine!" her mother called again, piercing through her distressed flashbacks with that cheerful tone. Sam dropped the sponge into the sink, rinsed her boot's surface, and grabbed a cloth to wipe it with.

The door to her room opened as she reentered it, concealing the bathroom behind its own frame.

A dressy looking woman stepped in, white gloved hands trying to smooth out her already neat, orange hair. She wore a summery yellow dress with various floral designs and white shoes to match.

Sam placed a hand to her forehead and turned away. Even to a Goth, the vision was frightening.

"Sammykins, Tucker is waiting for you outside. Are you ready?"

She placed her hands together and gave her daughter a broad grin, one she returned with a scowl.

"Yeah," Sam replied languorously, bringing her leg up and pulling the damp boot on. She swung her bag over her shoulder and rushed past her mother. If her parents had to listen to Tucker for one minute, she'd have to live in fear of another restraining order.

"Bye Grandma!" she called absentmindedly as she swung the door open. "A-And you too, Mom, Dad," she added hastily at the looks her parents shot her.

"Have a nice day at school, Sweetie—"

The rest of her father's words were drowned out as she slammed it shut behind her.

"Tucker."

"Hey Sam. You're okay!"

Her African American friend embraced her and pulled away, smiling.

"Sorry about last night. I couldn't find you, so I just ran for it. I figured you'd go after—"

"I did," she cut him off. "And, as you can imagine, he got away."

A frown replaced his grin at the bitter tone of his sour friend. He stepped a few inches away incase she decided to put a dent in something.

"Don't worry about it, Sam. He won't get far," he tried to assure her, but the Goth merely scowled and turned her gaze to the floor.

"You know, as much as I'd like to catch that creep and get rid of him for good, a part of me doesn't want to. I mean, what'll happen after he's gone? I battle ghosts, get through school, continue living this bleak sham of a life—"

"It's not the same without him," Tucker finished, pulling her straying sentence back to her original point. She looked up at him with questioning eyes and he elaborated.

"I meant D — well, _him_."

Sam caught his enunciation and whispered, "Oh, yeah. . ."

"I know what you mean," he continued softly. "I mean, Damien's fun and all, but it's just . . . it's just not the same."

He hesitated to mention the fact that she and Danny were meant to grow up together and eventually become more than friends. That was something neither he nor Damien could or would ever do.

"¡Hola compañeros!"

The two teens yelped and jumped up, startled. A hand wrapped around their shoulders and both heads turned to the cheery face of Damien. His smile, however, vanished almost instantly and he lowered his hands into his pockets.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Sam and Tucker forced a grin and replied, "Nothing" in their most convincing tones. He raised a brow at their wasted effort and held his hands up in front of him.

"Okay, okay, I get it. It's personal. Want me to run ahead and catch up with you guys at school?" he offered, but they quickly retaliated.

"No!" both teens shouted simultaneously with their hands out as if ready to grab him. They glanced at each other and Sam grinned kindly.

"We were just having a little chat about yesterday. You know, with Median?"

At the mention of the name, Damien's face seemed to drain of color. He tensed worriedly and began walking. Once again, Tucker and Sam glanced at each other and shrugged before following closely behind.

"Sorry I ran out on you, guys. I got panicked—"

"Dude, chill. You're not the only one who took off on their own. Sam and I got separated, too," Tucker comforted. Sam's fists tightened as she recalled the reason, but Tucker elbowed her lightly and gave her a look.

Those words failed to ease the boy before them. He exhaled deeply and stopped at the end of the block as they waited for the cars to pass.

"I knew something would go wrong. Ghosts always come out at night. And the Black Guard's too focused on that Median guy to worry about the others."

"What about Va— uh, that other hunter?" Sam wondered, disregarding his last statement.

"She doesn't come out much lately. Come to think of it, a lot of people have been acting strange. Everyone's sober now," he stated as they stepped forward to cross the street.

"I'm guessing that has to do with the fact that today's the third year anniversary of The Fatality," Tucker blurted absentmindedly. Sam and Damien halted abruptly and, consequently, he ended up walking into them. Even at the sudden jolt, both teens remained pale and still.

Tucker took a hesitant step back, his eyes continually fixated on his friends' backs. Apparently, not much had changed about him. One of these days, he was going to have to start considering the thought of allowing his mind to run faster than his mouth.

"Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to . . ."

His voice broke off as Damien and Sam turned to look at him. They wore identical expressions, though the reason why had him baffled. Damien arrived after the events of March 5, 2006; he didn't know anything about The Fatality — well, not first hand anyway.

"Don't worry about it," Sam replied with a weak smile as she turned around and continued onto the next block, both boys trailing behind her. She had been so used to Tucker's babbling habits that it had attached itself to her like a memory that would never fade. He wouldn't be Tucker if not for the random occasions of blurting out the wrong things.

After what seemed like an eternity of awkwardness, her heavy boot finally reached the tuft surface of grass around Casper High, leaving a footprint as she trudged forward.

The bell echoed around them, vibrating in their minds as it cut through the calm of the morning. Sam sighed and counted from three to one silently. Sure enough, at the precise moment she finished her countdown, a mob of students had formed and began shoving their way into the room, all muttering frantically and glancing around uneasily.

It was not uncommon that they would panic on this day. Nor was it unexpected. Even after two years of clear skies and no sign of danger, everyone believed that the Dark Phantom (another given name that made her want to hit her head on a wall repeatedly) would return one day. And on that day, they wanted to be ready.

Despite her views on keeping her beliefs distant from everyone else's, Sam couldn't help but feel that there might be some truth behind that rumor. Even as the thought swam effortlessly through her mind, her stomach gave an uneasy drop, as if gravity had increased tremendously on her in that moment.

The sight of the two well-built, suited and armed guards at the entrance of the building brought a smile to Damien's face. His tense posture eased with reassurance as he caught up with the rest of the crowd, Tucker running closely behind like a frightened pup.

Sam stopped walking and clutched her bag as she watched her two friends disappear behind the front doors. An amused smirk passed her lips as she mused at the irony of the fact that they both were spectrophobic, despite the fact that ghosts seemed to appear on a daily basis now in Amity Park.

It had been frightening at first, but the drama wore down.

"I think they're well on their way to becoming more feminine than I am," she mused, glancing up at the sky as if awaiting the sound of soft laughter. Her memories conjured a false humored laugh from a distant time ago, when the three would crack a joke and allow their happiness to take them away.

Though in reality, it never came. The skies remained calm, a little eerie as well. But who was to say her memories weren't real? It was the same laugh, though in a different time. And it was real enough to her.

The smile remained as she lowered her gaze and walked past the guards, for the first time in a while feeling happy after hearing Danny's nearly forgotten voice.

- - - - - - - - - -

"And after school, for safety cautions, all windows are to be locked, all doors to be closed, and all students safe in their homes and armed," Lancer announced as he paced around the room, receiving a few sniggers from students as Tucker muttered something about the teacher losing weight every time he paced the classroom.

Sam, however, was focusing on the absurdity of the man's words.

"Windows locked, doors closed? They're _ghosts_," she muttered under her breath, stressing the word. Not to mention the fact that she was a little too old to be following a curfew.

Star's hand shot into the air (for the first time that month, Tucker assumed) and the class turned to her. Without waiting for permission to speak, she lowered it and asked, "What good will that do if they can phase through it?"

Sam's jaw nearly dropped to her desk as her classmates began muttering amongst themselves in agreement.

_Star said something intelligent?_

The formulation of those words failed to make sense in her mind.

"I do not know," Mr. Lancer replied, "as I am not the one who makes up the rules. I assume a ghost shield will be put up, as usual, but all other questions must be addressed to either Principal Ishyama or Mayor Montez. Now, back to the subject of Christopher Paoli—"

Sam's eyes darted to the window as Lancer's words were suddenly drowned out. Just beyond the glass was a faint purple speck, projected by her eyes as a pretense to the real one that vanished just before she had a chance to turn her head.

Her amethyst eyes narrowed and her stomach churned uneasily. She gripped her pen firmly and tightened her lips. It was a faint spark, but the mere appearance of it shattered the peaceful image of the world around it. She paid no mind to the birds chirping on the branches closer to her view, or to the words rolling off the English teacher's tongue as he spoke.

Everything blurred around her as her focus remained fixed on the patch of blue sky. Had it not been for the town's past experiences with strange phenomenon, one would've disregarded it immediately.

But she knew all too well by now not to ignore things like this, no matter how minor they seemed.

"Mr. Lancer," she said with her hand high in the air, unaware of the fact that she had cut him off.

"Yes, Ms. Manson?" the English teacher replied, rather annoyed. He normally would've paid little attention to anyone who interrupted his lessons, but Sam Manson and Tucker Foley were now an exception.

"I'm not feeling too we—"

_BOOM!_

A loud roar reached their ears and all eyes turned to face the nearest window. A massive amount of smoke had erupted not too far away. Panicked cries soon filled the room as students raced to the nearest exit.

"_Anne Of Avonlea!_ Stand your ground!" the teacher bellowed, and all eyes turned to him. "Remain calm! There's more danger out there than there is in here."

"It's happening!" Bonnie Taylennor exclaimed, hugging the arm of a darkly colored football jock.

"The Fa—!"

"We've gotta get out of here—"

"Close the windows and lock the doors!"

"That's genius," Sam replied sarcastically. "And while you're at it, why not hide under your desks so that they can't find you?"

Paulina's gaze shifted to the Goth girl and she growled menacingly, clenching her perfectly manicured hands. Sam merely scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sam, let's go!" Tucker urged, pulling her arm as he rushed by. With one last threatening glare, she turned on her heel and raced after him.

"Foley, Manson, stand still!" Lancer demanded, but only the tips of Sam's shoulder length black hair could be seen from behind the doorframe by the time he spoke the last word.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Burning red eyes scanned the scene below. Heavy clouds of smoke rose high into the air, ending just below his feet. A fanged smile had formed on the demonic specter's face as he waited.

Screams soon filled the air as people rushed by as tiny specks below him. His invisibility proved useful, as he did not want to be seen just yet.

Beside him, a cloud of blue flames appeared, revealing the muscular form of a man that could send chills down people's spines with one devious grin. A cape hung loosely off his shoulders, blowing against the wind. He turned blood-red eyes upon the first ghoul. Flaming white hair could be seen just above his wrinkled forehead while his dark eyebrows closed together with narrowed eyes.

"Welcome back," the first greeted, keeping his eyes forward rather than on the caped ghost beside him.

"What's the catch?" the second questioned coldly.

"Catch?"

"How and why did you bring me here?"

A malevolent smirk reached the first ghost's lips as he studied the smoke.

"I brought you back to a period that does not belong," he replied. "This alternate universe — you are free here. So long as you help me keep things the way they are."

The second phantom's eyes hinted slight confusion, but he covered it up with a smile.

"And how do you suppose I do that?"

"This time . . . everything happening around us. It is not meant to be. You and I are currently in an alternate period. In here, nothing is real. Nothing can't be changed. Nothing . . . lives _within time_.

"And that is why I brought you back. Your existence is welcome here. For you are bound to live outside of time — in a world that isn't meant to be. In an Alternative . . .

"But this world won't stay as it is forever — not if Clockwork can do something about it."

The speaking ghoul looked at the second with a frown, but his accomplice kept his eyes forward, knowing from the corner of his vision that the attention was now on him.

"If you plan to stick around, you will do well to make sure he does not set things back to the way they were meant to be," the specter continued, knowing the other was listening. "For me, this will mean that I will be free to rule this world without any formidable adversaries, aside from you, of course.

"And for you, you will cease to exist if reality was to be set straight. However, in this alternate world, you are free to do as you wish. But the problem lies within Clockwork. He is our only threat."

Finally, a sneer reached the second ghost's lips at the mention of the time keeper's name. He clenched his solid hands into fists and raised them before his eyes with a cold, ruthless laugh.

"He won't stop me. I'm inevitable. . ."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Har har, oh the cruelty. For any of you who found yourselves severely confused, Ghost #1 is Plasmius, Ghost #2 is Dan Phantom. My apologies for the head aches you all received. I can see why you had difficulty with this. They're both as arrogant as the other. _

Chapter 11: _With a disappointed and weary sigh, Clockwork closed his eyes, as a wounded fighter would in defeat. _The 'Tempus Fool' comes face to face with Dan Phantom.

_A one sentence sneak peek. See how generous I am? I am currently writing the middle of chapter 15. People, applaud me! I have managed to write a FOUR PAGE chapter! ONLY 4 pgs! Incredible. You won't have to sit in front of the computer for hours now. It's chapter 13, by the way, and it's sort of the climax of something very important. Ironic how that one would be the short one._

Reviews make sitting through Latin worthwhile! (My betaer is currently trying to pry my Alt planning book from my hands and has resorted to singing . . .)


	11. Tempus Fool

Wow, 3 months . . . Okay, I am INCREDIBLY sorry for those of you who were following this fic. School's been delaying me from updating, but I am back and ready to give you guys the next chapter of Alt. Thanks you for bearing with me!

Afharisto: **JK rulez, Horselvr4evr123, RhiannonGrey, gjcoolio, katiesparks, kybo**

All right, I shall delay you no more. Here is chapter 11:

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Alternative**

Chapt 11- Tempus Fool

Bright skies turned to dusk as stars began spotting the light purple shades above. Sam paced her room uneasily, throwing clothes over her shoulder as Tucker sat on the windowsill, watching the news report. The exact words of the reporter were echoing from the high-definition public plasma screen several blocks away.

There had been no proof of the Dark Phantom's return. The only suspicious event of the day was the explosion earlier (and the faint purple speck Sam saw). Still, terror spread quickly through Amity Park.

The citizens had been dwelling deeper into chaos amidst their own panic. Sirens filled the skies above the frightened screams. Warnings and news reports were being displayed for public view.

Hunters had gathered around the streets, weapons at the ready. A slim figure in red and black stood still on her flyer as it slowly passed over them and came to a stop. Her back had been facing the television screen, but that was enough for Tucker to identify the girl.

They all seemed to have known what was to come.

But opinions often led to many misunderstandings, and they didn't know the half of it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Danny fastened the watch onto his thin wrist and watched as it emanated a mysterious amethyst glow. He was now in Clockwork's study, standing just before the original, flatter oracle.

The room was familiar to him. He recognized it from his previous journeys to Clockwork's tower many years back. Sam and Tucker had stood with him then.

He faced the oracle and placed his fingertips on the surface. Unsurprisingly, they sunk through into the image. He receded immediately and placed his hands by his side.

The three had jumped into it before, right into the image it projected. They wound up ten years in the future back then. Clockwork's original oracle had the power to do that. It all fit now that Danny was never allowed into his study before today. The time keeper couldn't risk him returning back to Amity Park if it had appeared within the circular item.

"That watch will allow you to appear wherever I am," the Master of Time said from the other side of the room. He glided over to the younger ghost and rested on his staff.

"You will be able to sense whenever I need you," he informed. "We haven't much time to waste. By now, Plasmius and Phantom will have come to terms and agreed to join together."

"That can't be good," Danny sighed as he tapped his new watch with his finger. For some odd reason, it was not ticking.

"On the contrary, it is very good. Everything is going according to plan. If we just keep our places, the future will unfold itself. Just listen to my words carefully, Danny. You are not to see Sam until I have told her what she needs to know."

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden flash cut him off.

The end of Clockwork's staff emitted a white spark of electricity as he pointed it at the oracle. The green fog within the flat layer of glass cleared into a very sharp image.

_Within the vision, a girl was throwing articles of clothing over her. They landed messily on the floor beside the sneakers of Tucker Foley. He had been sitting on the windowsill, watching something. Sam straightened her posture, now holding an ecto-gun in her hands. She examined it carefully and then turned to the boy._

_"You can use this," she said, tossing it to him. His gaze returned to her at the sound of her voice and he hastily raised his arms to catch it. Instead, it ended up throwing him off balance and he landed in the heap of clothes she had thrown aside._

Danny couldn't help but smile at the sight. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes again, but forced them back. After all, Clockwork's last statement pretty much confirmed he'd be allowed to go back to them soon enough.

_The African American boy's head popped out of the pile of shirts, socks, pants, and skirts and he scowled, pulling one off his cap and throwing it aside._

_"Here, take this, too," Sam said as she passed him a spare thermos. He picked it up and smiled sheepishly, most likely remembering his past experiences with the device._

_"Heh," he chuckled, "Good times. Oh, hang on; I have that laser lipstick at home. I'll go grab that and—"_

_Sam's eyes reflected a great deal of concern and she implored, "Tucker. . ." He caught the tone and gave her a warming smile._

_"Sam, relax. I'll be fine. They haven't appeared, yet, have they?'_

_The Goth let out a sigh and turned to face him, but he deliberately dashed into the hall and out of earshot before she had a chance to hold him back. _

"All right, you know what to do," Clockwork said, pulling a medallion off his shelf as Danny's gaze (now fixed on the image absently as though caught in an entertaining movie) tore from the visualization and shifted to him. He handed it to Danny and nodded once before gliding forward, into the oracle.

The image swirled as he entered it. Miniscule sparks of white light danced around the device before drifting obscurely. Soon, a green fog surrounded it and took over, leaving Danny staring at nothing but the smoke.

He gasped and placed a hand on the screen, but his fingers hit the glass surface. How was he to know when he was allowed to go back if he couldn't see what Clockwork was doing?

He looked down at his watch and tapped its surface again, but the hands remained silent and still.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Incandescent light spilled around the time keeper as his surroundings merged into one bright mass of white. The light played on his face and shoulders as he sped through the long pretense of an abyss, neither blinking nor stumbling.

The forceful rush of air switched his course until he was left moving in a completely different direction. As thoughts raced through Clockwork's mind, realization struck and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

His oracle didn't lead through this ostensibly endless passageway. It would normally have brought him directly to his destination. Someone had tampered with the events of the fragile and unstable era of the current world.

And only someone powerful would be able to . . .

He raised his staff high above his head and streaks of light began passing by, indicating that he was moving faster. He could almost feel the force of wind part the magical staff from his fingers, but then his powerful grip returned and the rush began to calm.

He was in a room, now, floating above a crimson rug in what seemed like a momentarily abandoned theatre. Before him was a long counter containing empty displays where candy would've normally been placed. A single gleam fleetingly passed over what seemed like an invisible barrier, preventing entrance beyond the counter.

Several yards above it was a second floor, in which a rail was preventing accidental falls. The floor seemed to be about three feet wide, ending at a wall just beyond the rail with various posters of playing movies. The thin passage opened up to a larger portion of the second floor to Clockwork's right.

A dull light shone into the room through the several large windows taking up most of the wall behind the floating ghost. His eyes remained vigilant as he lowered his staff beside him.

This was definitely Amity Park, but it was just an illusion created by a master of trickery. None of it was real — he was still within the cascade of light, traveling to his real destination.

"Clockwork," a voice drawled behind him, wreaking foulness within every word, "I've been expecting you."

"As I," Clockwork said indifferently as he turned to face his malicious host, "have been expecting _you_."

A nasty grin widened on the ghost's face, revealing a pair of pointed fangs. He chuckled lightly and stepped out of the shadows of the dully colored cinema.

"There you go again, always assuming you know everything. Very humorous, indeed, my old friend."

"Your piteous pretense will not fool me, Phantom," Clockwork said, once again, in his worriless and casual tone. "Friendship does not seem to fit the identity of a murderer."

He held out his left hand, still keeping a secure grip on his staff with the other. In a flash of white, a scythe appeared, horizontally, beside him. He closed his fingers around it and brought it before himself.

Phantom merely chucked as his rival positioned a fighting stance.

"How amusing," he whispered. "You plan to fight me?"

"Not quite," Clockwork replied carelessly. "If I fought you, it'd be over too soon. But I will not be the one to uphold the honor of finishing you. Well, not completely, anyway."

Phantom's pretension of calm shattered almost immediately as his mirthless laughter rang through the abandoned walls of the theatre. He lowered his head, still sneering, and gave himself the air of a darkened figure, hidden within the shadows. His features creased, revealing darker shades about his pale blue skin.

In one swift move, he snarled and darted forward, but Clockwork had been expecting this. The time keeper disappeared and reappeared, within a second's time, behind him. Phantom spun around and brought forward a clawed and demonic hand.

Clockwork raised his scythe, which clashed smoothly with his rival's attack. Then, in another split second, he brought his staff through the air and hit Phantom upside the head with it, smirking slightly.

The raged ghost leapt forward, but, simultaneously, Clockwork glided back and, turning to the side, he flipped the scythe between his fingers and brought it out, hitting his nemesis in the chin with its end.

"Enough of your games, Clockwork!" Phantom barked, stepping back to avoid another blow, but Clockwork merely smiled and held his position.

"I'm afraid that, out of pity more than my own amusement, I can't resist the urge to hold back. Forgive me, Dan, but if you wish to bring forth my true potential, you will show me an equal match," he said serenely with a faint grin.

Phantom's eyes flashed furiously. His exceedingly sharp claws elongated even more, tearing through his gloves.

"You think I am a novice, you Tempus fool! I will show you true power!" Before the time keeper had a chance to respond, Phantom opened his mouth widely and inhaled deeply. With a disappointed and weary sigh, Clockwork closed his eyes, as a wounded fighter would in defeat.

However, Phantom's attack never reached him. The ghost froze in time, mouth wide open and fangs clearly visible, with his clawed hands clenched tightly so that he was cutting into his own rough skin.

"Sadly, the true understanding of that is one of which you have failed to ascertain," Clockwork said calmly to the still figure before him. He raised his staff once more; the hands on the purple stopwatch began quickening their pace until they were left moving in a swift blend of black and purple. "With him is where it lies."

And with that said, he allowed a thick layer of violet smoke to circle in a wide circumference around him.

Danny's loosely fitted, torn, and stained black and white attire appeared amongst the whirling colors. The boy looked around, nonplussed and confused. His gaze then turned to his watch, apparently noticing something new.

Before permitting the fleeting white streaks to return him to the seemingly endless abyss, Clockwork bellowed, "TIME _IN_!"

Fortunately, Danny caught on immediately. As soon as Phantom's wail reached his ears, he was ready with his own rebounding assault. The two waves of striking green energy collided in the midst of the ghostly cries, sending the fading purple smoke circling around Danny scattering across the theatre before dispersing.

The scene faded from the ectoblood-green visual to a shadowed room of black and red. This atmosphere, though still apprehensive, was a drastic change to that of the previous one.

A girl was racing towards the door with various weapons in hand. Clockwork's red eyes narrowed and it shut simultaneously. Sam let out a surprised yelp and spun around, expecting to see a demonic figure grinning maliciously at her.

Her eyes widened in surprise. The weapons slipped from her hand, clattering on top of each other on the floor, but she paid no attention to it.

"Clockwork?" she asked feebly. Her knees trembled for a split second as if she was about to collapse, but she fought it back; fainting would probably rid her of this once in a lifetime chance.

"Hello, Samantha," he greeted in reply, waving his hand in a single flick so that the red curtains closed over the windows and hid their view to the outside world. "You and I have a lot of things to discuss."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 12: The cause of Danny's death is revealed to Sam. Now she's seeing his green eyes again, but why?


	12. Green Eyes

_Okay, it's been a while since I last updated. Sorry guys, I'm a week late. But I can make it up to you — This chapter will have a very evil ending, but if you are tempted to skip and read the end . . . don't. :)_

_Thanks a ton to:_

**JK rulez, Me-agaisnt-the-world****, gjcoolio, kybo**

_You guys are incredible._

Quick Note: _I'm pretty sure very few of you caught onto the significance of the watch Clockwork gave Danny. I will save you the trouble of having to reread the end of chapt 11 by telling you that, at first, the hands on it didn't move. However, when Clockwork needed Danny to finish up the battle with Dan, he made Danny appear at the theatre and he, Danny, noticed a change in his watch. i.e Clockwork needed him, the hands started moving, and Danny appeared where he was needed. You'll be seeing that again in his chapter._

Thanks to **V1rg1n1a** for betaing!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Alternative**

Chapt 12- Green Eyes

A set of dual green beams tore through the air, barely missing a streak of black and white as the figure rose high off the ground. He laughed mirthlessly and swung his hand forward, emitting his own blast. His adversary swung his hand effortlessly through the air and managed to break the weak attempt.

Danny leapt forward, but Phantom created another jet of green energy that the young ghost was unable to deflect. He fell back through the air, but managed to twist his body so that he landed on one hand before flipping around to return to his feet.

However, by the time he raised his head, a black gloved fist was already obscuring his vision. He landed against the glass of the large window and slid down. Before his knees made contact with the ground, the same hand wrapped around his throat and swung him around, throwing him onto the floor.

Danny clenched his teeth and inhaled deeply. Within a matter of seconds, he recovered from the hit and got back on his feet. Phantom let out a loud laugh at the effort and grinned, fangs clearly visible.

The ghoul dashed forward, but Danny clenched his fists and positioned himself. As Phantom leapt up off the ground, Danny did so, too. His feet collided with the ghost's massive chest, pushing him back. He ran up his body, flipped over him so that he was now back to back, and swung his elbow into his opponent's ribs. As Phantom made an attempt to turn, Danny spun around and swung his leg over, getting the ghost in the side of the head just before the two landed.

Phantom's neck twisted demonically and Danny shot him a nonplussed look. The older ghoul laughed yet again and positioned his head back to normal.

Without giving Danny a chance to recover from the horrific vision, he jumped back into the air, performed a side kick, spun around, and repeated the assault with his other foot. Two powerful and swift flares of green ectoplasm emerged from each kick and advanced on the young ghost.

Danny let out an inaudible gasp as he darted to the left, avoiding one blast, and then ducked as the second flew over him and burned a hole through the floor behind him. He barely had a chance to turn his attention back to his offender when another streak of green connected with his shoulder, sending him back several yards.

Phantom landed heavily on both feet and began advancing on the fallen teenager.

"It's been a while," he said maliciously as Danny turned over on his side and made an attempt to avoid the pain as he stood up. "About three years, to be exact."

Phantom stopped walking just before the receding teenager as he took a few steps back to hold their six foot distance. Danny's generally green eyes narrowed disdainfully as he recalled the previous events in which the two had been acquainted. Technically, it was about seven years forward from now, but the final battle took place in his ordinary time and was, therefore, three years back.

Realizing that he was doing math, Danny's frown deepened and he quickly shook the thought away.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Phantom sneered ignorantly, keeping his cold red eyes on Danny, whose gaze returned immediately to him. "Knowing you emerged triumphant in a battle, with all your family and friends still alive and beside you only a few years ago. Knowing you had everything you wanted, and _banishing_ _me_ to a time outside your own!" he spat, causing Danny to tense slightly. "Thinking it was all going to get better from there. You let your guard slip after each narrow victory and allowed your emotions to take over — _your biggest mistake_."

Phantom's face hardened and his brows connected as he said calmly, "But I am here yet again, standing before you." A cold sneer passed his lips once more as he said, in the most vindictive tone he could manage, "And I see what has become of you."

Not a single fleeting thought passed through Danny's mind before he realized everything in his head had blurred. Only one subconscious feeling seemed vivid. In no less than three seconds, he found the temperature of his hands rising, throwing flares of all different forms at his rival, screaming words he didn't even hear.

"I died doing what was right! Repugnant COWARD!"

A tremendous green blast erupted from his palm, cutting across horizontally aligned posters and barely missing the dodging ghost.

"And even still, I hold my pride! I don't live within your shadow! Half ghost or full, I will NEVER become you!"

Phantom's red eyes narrowed as his smirk widened. He dodged another blazing assault, never taking his attention off the raging boy.

"You are worthless, no matter what time does to you. I still have my dignity!"

"And your rage, heroism, pride, and all other emotions that will eventually bring you down!" Phantom shouted triumphantly; he sped toward Danny as a cloud of green smoke and landed a punch at the side of his face.

Danny's assaults ceased immediately as his head jolted to the right and, losing balance, he collapsed once more on the cold theatre ground.

Forcing himself onto his hands and knees, the tensed ghost looked up at his attacker and glared deeply at the smirk planted on his blue lips.

"So this is what becomes of you when you spend your entire afterlife with Clockwork. Pitiful—"

Without warning, Phantom's hand flew up at Danny's throat as he was getting back on his feet, sealing him tightly in his grip.

"You don't understand it, do you?" Phantom asked unkindly in a soft whisper. "I don't need you to become me. This world, and everything in it, is an Alternative. It does not exist, and when Plasmius and I are through with you, Clockwork, and your little friends, it will _remain_ an Alternative. And therefore, I'm not going anywhere."

He tightened his grip, and Danny, despite his bold pretense, couldn't help but wince.

"But you are . . ." Phantom chuckled softly.

Danny's mind was beginning to focus on his lack of oxygen, rather than on escape. He swore foully against that disadvantage, but then realized it was the only trait that related him to his former human self.

And in that instant, a very distinct image of a fourteen year-old boy with striking black hair, faded blue eyes, and a warm grin entered his mind, taking over his faltering vision. He let out a faint gasp, seeing himself for the first time in three years as he used to be.

Innocence, unwavering purity of heart . . . he tried to save her, and ended up suffering for it. Of all the years he spent living with Clockwork, he had always hated himself for not taking an alternative action to save both Sam and himself. All of those years living in the time keeper's tower, he never once was put into a situation in which he had a split second to decide what to do.

But now he realized there was no alternative action.

_The boy's vision was overtaken by red. He looked up at the sky, panicking as he felt his entire body ache._

It was either him or Sam; there was only a single second to decide.

_A single line of black stood out amongst the rapidly growing flare, and in that split second, he was able to make out Sam Manson's form as the light slowly overlapped her dark figure._

And he chose Sam.

_The force of the collision slowed him down. He saw her falling from the corner of his sight, but barely had a chance to move his head by the time the blaze tore through him._

That boy, that single boy, did what he, a seventeen year old teenager, hated himself for through the duration of his afterlife. He acted like a true hero; he _was _a true hero.

It was never too late to resume that title.

"My '_mistakes'_ can be fixed," Danny breathed scathingly, emitting another green glow in his palms as he tried to pry Phantom's fingers from his throat. A frown replaced the offender's lips for a second at the burn, and then, unable to stop himself, he cried out and pulled away.

Without a second's hesitation, Danny lunged at his rival and, thrusting his fist forward with full force, blasted a green assault at Phantom's face. A gash formed on the ghost's rough skin in exact location to Danny's now red cheek.

"I made a promise," he said, bringing his glowing hands to his sides and keeping both eyes on Phantom, "that I would protect them, no matter what."

Phantom seemed ready to gag at the sentimental statement. He wiped the blood off his face without so much as a wince and gritted his teeth.

"And I think you know how well I keep my promises, _Dan_," Danny said coldly, clenching his hands tightly.

At that instance, Phantom inhaled deeply and then cried out with an earsplitting wail, sending waves of spiraling green energy within the closed space of the theatre. Concrete began to fall as the walls and ceiling cracked. Dust began to pollute the air, but Danny paid no attention to it. A fleeting flashback of a brilliant red light passed his thoughts as he eyed the advancing green blast.

Acting on reflex, he swung his arm before him and managed to push his body against the aura of the oncoming attack before the full force could do him harm.

Phantom choked out as the blast suddenly stopped, the last few waves catching in his throat. He pulled back and raised a hand to his neck, but Danny wasted no time in rebounding the attack.

Without taking a deep breath, he emitted a loud, yet somewhat less vibrant wail of his own, sending flashes of a lighter shade of green dancing across the broken walls and invisible barriers around them.

The remainder of the theatre began to collapse, but he kept his clenched hands bent slightly at his sides, eyes closed and his mind's focus on his rival.

The brilliance brought life to the dully colored scenario, steadily tearing it apart. The giant window behind them began to shred, like shattering glass, as a white incandescence took over. The vanishing scene disappeared within the oncoming light, slowly making its way around the wailing Danny.

His eyes opened as he felt his feet lift off the ground. The gentle force of the surrounding abyss began pulling him back. His cry faded as the rest of the scene disappeared, soon leaving nothing but the seemingly endless white space and a floating Danny in its wake.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sirens could be heard wailing beyond the veil of curtains. Orders were being blasted around every corner, telling people to remain inside and that the ghost shield was already up. But these words of comfort did little to calm the panicked citizens. They had seen what had happened three years before to the poor boy of the Fentons. No one cared for instructions now.

Sam sat on her bed, eyes focusing on her knees. She had tried to let all the information sink in, but that just didn't seem possible. Clockwork's elongated shadow reached her black boots from the opposite end of the room.

"So, you're telling me," she whispered, finally pulling her eyes away from her black pants, "that Vlad's the reason . . . he . . ."

"He is the cause behind The Fatality, yes," Clockwork answered quietly. "And we are living within an Alternative."

At this, a look of bafflement crossed Sam's features. She raised a brow and repeated, "Alternative?"

"A world which does not belong. Within this world, nothing is permanent; nothing can't be changed to resemble it's original counterpart. I explained to you what he did and how it has affected the time stream. One single decision, and everything can fall apart at any moment."

Sam let out a worried gasp. She seemed ready to jump out of her seat, but her legs did not seem to respond. She stuttered a little before blurting, "How do we prevent that from happening?"

A soft grin broke out on Clockwork's face as he chuckled and responded, "You don't."

The grin widened at the girl's panicked reaction. She gaped at his calm sense of tone and then said, "So this is it? This is how it's going to end? I thought you were the Master of Time! You can do—"

"It is _you_, Sam, who will be making sure this Alternative falls apart. I will be in my place, doing what I—"

"I won't let it," Sam said at once, rising to her feet and clenching her hands firmly beside her. "I've lost too much already. I'm not going to stand by and—"

"No, Sam," Clockwork chuckled, "you will not go against the oracle. I don't feel you're understanding my terms. I need you to allow this world to fall apart for the sole reason that you will be bringing back the lives that were taken three years back."

_Lives?_

Sam's eyebrow kicked up again, but she did not voice her thoughts. Instead, she sat back down and allowed Clockwork to continue.

"This world is not how it should be. Plasmius and Dark Danny will try to keep it that way—"

"_DARK DANNY?_"

"—and it is up to you to set things back to the way they were," the time keeper continued serenely. "In order to do that, you must return back in time to prevent Mr. Masters from conducting his experiment. In doing so, you will have set the time stream right again. Now, you question the return of Dark Danny—"

"He's back?" Sam choked out, interrupting him once more as a single tear rolled down her cheek in envy. "_He's_ back?" she emphasized.

"Listen to me, Sam, and listen well. I shall not repeat myself. Time is running short."

Sam opened her mouth to point out that he could pause it, but decided against it when he shot her a look.

"I will keep to the events of the oracle," he simply said, holding up his staff. "Now, Phantom, that is to say Dark Danny, has returned. I foresaw that as well. Before you ask me why I did not stop him, I will answer you again — I will keep to the events of the oracle. I know what happens and how this ends. Whether it be an ending you find satisfactory or one you would not be content with, I will not go against my oracle. I have already devised a way to use Phantom's freedom and Plasmius' alternate change of events to his disadvantage."

Sam, once again, had to refrain herself from speaking her thoughts. Clockwork made it an easy task, however, by continuing before she had a chance to say or do anything.

"Now, your job is simple. When I feel it is time, I will return you to the past. You are NOT to waste time and look for Danny —"

Another tear slid down Sam's red face as Clockwork's stern words struck her. She clenched her fists stubbornly and averted her gaze.

"You will put forth your best effort in persuading Mr. Masters to cease his experiment. He will most likely find your story ludicrous. You are NOT to destroy his ingredients. He will consider you an enemy, take you down, and then replenish his supply and try the experiment again. Now, you are wondering how you are going to persuade him? The answer is simple. Just go along with what I have told you, and everything is to fall into place.

"There is a reason I chose to send you back on this particular day. But keep in mind, Sam, the decision to rid yourself of this Alternative will not be as easy at it seems. For, some time along the way, a friend will have to be sacrificed."

Sam opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off after the second word.

"What do y—?"

"You will know soon enough, and I implore you not to question me further. I have enough to deal with, with Danny's persistence—"

He broke off immediately, his lips twitching slightly at the mistake. However, the word reached the Goth's ears and her head shot up the moment the name passed his lips. Her amethyst eyes were now wide and fixed right at is. They narrowed slightly in suspicion and she slowly stood up.

Clockwork allowed a grin to form on his face, but he had his back to her before she could see.

"Clockwork . . ." Sam whispered hesitantly, but the time keeper ignored her. His purple cloak fluttered softly behind him as he raised his staff.

"Remember my words, Sam," he said loudly, but she was already on her feet, eyes narrowed and features stiffening.

"Clockwork, where is he?" she demanded, ignoring the warm liquid now coming uncontrollably from her reddened eyes. "Tell me!"

"Patience, Ms. Manson. I shall return for you shortly. Take heed of my advice."

Thick, purple smoke surrounded the ghost, emanating from his equally colored staff. It began to take hold of the dark scene around them, thrusting everything into a blend of amethyst shades. Their silhouettes were barely visible beyond the haze. The furious girl tore through the fog and darted forward.

"No!" she yelled, running after him. She wasn't going to let him escape, not after hearing that name. "Take me to Danny! I have to see Danny!"

Clockwork's head turned slightly, and one piercing red eye caught hers.

"In due time," he said softly, pulling his gaze away.

And, in a powerful gust of wind, Sam was thrust backward and sent speeding across the room. She landed against the hard floor on her back as a sequence of flashes, from purple to white, replaced the smoke. After a few seconds of distortion, her room was back to normal, leaving not a single trace of the ghost's departure behind.

Sam cried out angrily and pounded her fist into the floor, biting back the second yell as an unpleasant throbbing took over. The sound of the sirens reached her ears once more, steadily getting louder and faster. She took no notice as her own choked sobs escaped her. She got to her feet, hating the aged ghost more than ever, yet feeling grateful towards him for giving her the first spark of hope in three years.

She wanted to say something, anything, but her words caught in her throat and came out as more painful sobs.

"Danny!" she cried.

"He's not here."

Her eyes shot open at the reply.

Sam whipped around, her heart's pace increasing to an inhumane and dangerously high level. She barely had a chance to scream, inwardly or outwardly, let alone move out of the way as the wall behind her disintegrated, leaving a blinding red light in its wake.

She could feel her body burning intensely within that one split second; the red light mingled with amethyst as her eyes widened.

_She couldn't move, think, or breathe as it engulfed everything around her. Suddenly, something rushed into her from the side and pushed her with incredible force._

She felt a powerful jolt and gasped. The red blaze cut her skin, but just barely. Sam felt as though her soul had left her body. She was featherweight, moving without control at an incredible speed.

She watched, horrorstruck, as the red blast shattered the bedroom window above her.

But somehow, it was growing more distant. She was falling . . .

Her own weight returned; she could feel the cold wind beneath her, as well as the frozen touch of another.

Her body reached the ground, and another weight landed on top of her. The blooded crimson shade circled the sky, silhouetting everything in her sight. Sam tried to cover her eyes, but her hands were stuck at her sides. She lowered her gaze to the person holding her down.

As the blinding light dispersed, a vibrant white aura emanated from the shadowed figure, gradually clearing to reveal the two brilliant green eyes of the boy who had died three long years ago.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Oooh, climax. It only took 12 chapters. 12 agonizingly long chapters — sorry once again, guys. The next one's probably the shortest chapter in this entire fic, but it's also a pretty huge event. _

_There are a few short ones near the end of the story as well. Try to put up with me until then._

_All right, a NEW Alternative sneak peak from chapter 16 is up in my profile. Check that out if you want._

Chapter 13: All of the dreams that mocked her and stole her away from comfortable sleep, all the hopeful images that disappeared with the call of dawn suddenly lay before her. But it couldn't have been him . . . Not like this.

_Please review. It really does help boost my confidence._


	13. Paroxysms

_I have returned. Sorry guys, I'm having a lazy period, so updates are moving a bit slowly. Once I get a decent break from school (one in which I'm not piled with tons of "vacation" homework), I'll be back on track with the fic. But fear not, I have some chapters already written, so I just have to give them to my betaer (again, not a real word) and I'll have 'em up on Fridays. Thank you for bearing with my languorousness. _

_Thank you:_

**JK rulez, Me-agaisnt-the-world, Linda, kitty-lover66, kybo, gjcoolio**

Previous chapter:

_Her body reached the ground, and another weight landed on top of her. The blooded crimson shade circled the sky, silhouetting everything in her sight. Sam tried to cover her eyes, but her hands were stuck at her sides. She lowered her gaze to the person holding her down._

_As the blinding light dispersed, a vibrant white aura emanated from the shadowed figure, gradually clearing to reveal the two brilliant green eyes of the boy who had left her three years ago._

_- - - - - - - - - - - -_

**Alternative**

Chapt 13- Paroxysms

All of the dreams that mocked her and stole her away from comfortable sleep, all the hopeful images that disappeared with the call of dawn suddenly lay before her, reflecting in his adolescent features.

Sam wanted to scream, to shut her eyes and wake herself up from this tormenting vision. She couldn't stand it anymore, thinking about him when he was so far away.

And yet, she could feel his cold skin against her arms, his green eyes staring back into hers, no longer blue and vivacious. They bore an emerald sorrow.

Danny was here, but he was dead.

The word echoed hauntingly in her tormented mind. Silent tears escaped her and she struggled to pull her arms from his grasp and wipe them. She wanted to move away from the sad face that tore her heart in two, but he remained above her, cold as ever.

"Sam . . ."

His faltering voice weighed down upon her. Words couldn't describe the shock it embedded in her.

"Danny!" Sam cried, feeling her own thoughts stab her in the heart. "Danny, I'm so sorry!"

Finally, she managed to move her arm out from under him and pushed him off. Danny's eyes widened in shock and hurt as she rose up into a sitting position, concealing her wet face in her hands and trying to stifle her sobs.

"Sam," he said more urgently, getting to his feet. Sam turned her head to him, emotionally falling apart as her entire body trembled. She moved away, as if trying to avoid a fatal blow from the very ghost that took him away.

"You — youweren't supposed to be like this!" she choked, scrambling to her feet and receding from him. "You . . . It's not you!"

He reached out a hand, but stopped at her pained words. How could she be saying that? All of these years were spent dreaming of her, fantasizing the relentless hugs and tears of joy he'd receive if they were ever to be reunited. And now here she was, acting as if he was going to stab her in the back as soon as she gave him the chance.

"W-what happened to you?" she asked feebly, taking another step back. Her tear strained amethyst eyes set upon the fading luminosity of his green ones. His reflected a pain that far surpassed anything he'd ever felt within the past seventeen years of his life.

Feeling himself torn apart within that immense and fiery blaze could not compare.

"Sam, it's me," Danny tried, but his voice cracked halfway through. Did she not remember the boy she used to hang out with? The boy who shared a childhood with her? The boy who cared so deeply for her?

Sam could only shake her head in response as another tear slid down her red face. She examined his features — his white hair, pale complexion, green eyes; the green eyes that would never again turn blue.

Her gaze wandered to his torn and bloodstained clothes and a hand immediately rose to her cover her mouth as she let out another feeble cry. Her amethyst eyes widened tremendously and returned to his disconcerted face.

"Y-You're Median!" she breathed, pointing a shaky finger. Danny caught on immediately and shook his head.

"No!—"

"That night!" Sam cried. "That night, it was you I battled after he left!"

Danny's nonplussed look deepened at her unexpected behavior. She was worried about _that_? No "hello, Danny" or "I missed you"? Sam's voice became stronger and much more severe as she began advancing toward him.

"You selfish, uncaring, resentful—!"

Danny cringed as she leapt at him, expecting a smack across the face, but what he received instead was a tight, breathtaking embrace. Looking more confounded than ever, he awkwardly raised his arms and wrapped them around her, pushing her violent words out of his thoughts long enough to enjoy the warm touch.

"I missed you so much," she whispered. "I searched for you. I went through so much to try to find you."

Danny tried to pull her closer, but, simultaneously, she shivered and pulled away, looking up at him with glossed eyes.

"And you were here all along, fighting me!" she yelled furiously, extending her left hand and summoning, in a bright white flash, her well-known weapon. Danny's eyes darted to it warily, but he remained still as she brought it up towards his neck again. An impassive look reflected in his features as he turned back to look at her.

"You lied to me!" she continued, trying to control her shaking hand. "You betrayed me! Why, Danny? Why did you not tell me it was you!"

"Because I didn't know that is was _you_," Danny responded, bringing his hand up and gently pushing her weapon away. She barely resisted. "After all, how am I to know of the Black Guard's identity when the only information I can reach from the human world are old newspapers?"

A light smile played at his lips as he glanced, once more, at her blade. Sam, however, kept her attention on him, still trying to fight back her cries.

"Your suffers were nothing compared to mine," he said quietly, allowing the smile to falter. Sam's eyes narrowed and she finally turned her head the other way. Somehow, she was finding that hard to believe.

"Why didn't you ever come back?" she asked, pulling her blade by her side so that he would look back at her. Their eyes met once more before each looked away again.

"Because I couldn't. Clockwork wouldn't allow it," Danny replied, stepping closer. This time, however, Sam did not retreat. She looked up at him with inquisitiveness. "I guess he already explained to you how 'separation brought forth determination to succeed in the task' or 'a longing desire will fuel your determination' or . . . some other such nonsense."

He grinned broadly and Sam couldn't help but laugh heartily. He looked so different, and yet he still kept the personality of his fourteen year-old self. Feeling a comforting warmth take over all insecurities, Sam ran forward and pulled him into a hug again. He willingly returned it.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, burying her head into his shoulder. She could almost feel his coldness ebbing away. "For everything . . ."

But Danny did not respond. He merely let out a faint gasp and jerked slightly. Sam's eyes opened immediately as his weight pressed against her. She tried to hold him up, but he was now resting on her shoulder limply. Another fresh wound was cut across his back.

Her gaze darted to the dark street before them and her body, too, grew numb and froze. A red orb of light was floating several feet off the ground, illuminating the hand conjuring it, a shadowy face, and the demonic, fanged smile of the mutated Plasmius.

"The hunter and her prey," he said languorously. "Well, well . . ."

Sam's darkened eyes could only widen as she caught sight of the blood-colored light in his hand. Her mouth became dry and she tightened her grip on Danny.

"I've heard of 'opposites attract', but it's a little too cliché for a girl like you. I think you're better off without him."

And before Sam could breathe a word, the blaze of red tore through the calm air around her, directed towards the fallen hero resting on her shoulder.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Ouch, talk about bitter reunions. All right, this chapter was extraordinarily short for me . . . only 4 pgs. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to more :) I'll try to have my next update on the coming Friday, the 2nd of March._


	14. Bitter Reunion

_All right, I have decided to stop deciding what days I am going to update, because unless I can see the future, there is no guarantee that I can stick to the scheduled date. I am very sorry to those of you who were expecting this last Friday. I feel like I've been bombarded by my school. One day I'm free, and then the next I find out I have at LEAST one test every day of the next week. I have a National Latin Exam on the coming Thursday as well, plus some more regular tests, so I might not get to writing any new chapters soon. Don't worry, I still have a few from before, I just need to have them beta-ed. _

_Okay, enough with my schedule. Again, I am truly very VERY sorry to you guys. Please forgive me. I came up with a few better ideas for the end, if it's any consolation, but that might lead towards a really annoying cliffhanger._

_Can't be any more emphatic with my thanks to:_

**Me-agaisnt-the-world, JK rulez, Soulcat56, kitty-lover66, gjcoolio, Sweeteen19, Kybo**

Previous chapter:

_Her gaze darted to the dark street before them and her body, too, grew numb and froze. A red orb of light was floating several feet off the ground, illuminating the hand conjuring it, a shadowy face, and the demonic, fanged smile of the mutated Plasmius._

"_Beauty and the Beast," he said languorously. "Opposites do not attract, I'm afraid. You're better off without him."_

_And before Sam could breathe a word, the blaze of red tore through the calm air around her, directed towards the fallen hero resting on her shoulder._

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

**Alternative**

Chapt 14- Bitter Reunion

_Dan Phantom laughed ruthlessly at the helpless victims below. Panicked cries rang out all around him as he conflagrated another green blast. Within seconds, it plummeted into the street, sending cars off the road, toppling over each other and nearly crashing into pedestrians._

Clockwork's fiery red eyes remained emotionless as he watched the catastrophic scene. His lip twitched slightly, but he sighed to himself and turned away. The flat surfaced oracle within the study returned to its green, misty haze.

Two robed figures floated an inch off the floor across the room, both watching the elderly ghost with a single giant, yet narrowed, eye.

"You knew he would escape!" a virile voice said furiously. "You foresaw it!"

"Yes, yes I did," Clockwork replied indifferently.

"Then why did you let it happen? Why not stop him?" the female spoke reasonably, gliding forward slightly.

"To what purpose?" Clockwork asked, examining the battered thermos on the table, trapped within an invisible barrier. Its cap had been placed beside it. He reached his hand through the shield and broke its surface with ease, as if placing a hand in water. It emanated a green glow for a second as he took hold of the Ghost Device and pulled it out before himself.

"To keep him in the thermos for the rest of time?" the aged ghost continued. "What good would that do for us?"

The two Observants looked at each other questioningly. They did not need to ask where Clockwork was going with this; he continued to speak without an answer.

"I put more thought into it. I figured, he is only able to exist outside of time. You are aware, I assume, that the human world is currently an Alternative?"

A set of gasps followed that inquiry and the two eyes widened.

"An Alternative?" the female repeated.

"But what does that have to do with—"

"I'm getting to that," Clockwork cut him off. "Yes," he said to the first, "it is an Alternative. Now, the reason why I permitted his escape isn't very complicated, actually. What is to happen if the girl is to succeed? Not only would we be rid of Plasmius' mutated self and their world set back to the way it belonged, but Dark Phantom would go down with him and everything else that followed after The Fatality's events."

"But that makes no sense," the second Observant said agitatedly, gliding past his companion. "Even if you do plan to reverse the Alternative, Dan would return to his thermos. The mutated Plasmius was the one who set him free. If he never comes to existence, then who—"

"—Would set Plasmius free?" Clcokwork finished, with a humorous chuckle. "I would. Or, at least, I'll keep him free. He lives outside of time to begin with, so the basic rules do not apply. It is for that reason that I am able to keep him and his thermos suspended in this universe, so the events that occur until the girl can change her past will remain for him. If everything is set back to the way it's supposed to be, it will not affect him. He will be stuck here, and if this Alternative disappears, so does he."

Both Observants exchanged glances again, trying to determine whether the other had any idea what the time keeper was speaking of. Clockwork noticed and shook his head.

"You'd best return to the others and stick to Observing. Leave the real work to me," he said, lifting his staff and pointing it at the thermos he was holding.

The two Observants scowled in offense and made their way out of the room without another word. The Master of Time paid no mind to their ire as he produced a luminescent, amethyst light from the end of his staff.

"Suspended in this time and bound to its occurrences; you will not be returning . . ." he said softly.

The circle of light erupted from his staff and snaked around the device. Clockwork released it from his grip and it remained suspended in the air with an invisible shield placed around it, immobilizing it completely.

- - - - - - - - -

Sam leapt out of the way of the attack, managing to parry it by an inch. She lost balance and fell against the cemented ground. Danny landed a short distance beside her, moaning slightly. He struggled to open his eyes, but it seemed to require more energy than he was putting forth.

Sam rolled over and pushed herself up. This battle, the outcome, was depending on her now. She had never felt so desperate to return things to the way they were before, in which she had been merely the backup. Involuntarily, her legs carried her backwards as her profligate enemy advanced.

Plasmius' sneer widened as he lowered his head, casting a shadow over his face. He raced forward, leaving behind a trail of smoke. Sam prepared another dodge, but the ghost instead thrust his fist forward upon coming to an abrupt and unexpected halt. Another red blaze shot through the sky towards the Goth.

She raised a hand before her and brought the other behind her back. Her two blades appeared in her grasp. The girl jumped up, bringing her knees to her chest, and crossed the weapons before her. She spun them rapidly and the red light was deflected. The force, however, thrust her back and she had to perform a backward summersault to regain her footing; even so, she landed rather clumsily.

"A bit more than I expected from a mortal girl," the ghoul commented, bringing his fist back and emitting another powerful ray of energy. Sam's amethyst eyes narrowed as she took her fighting stance once more.

"I'm going to ignore that," she replied bitterly. Plasmius could only laugh as she made an attempt to catch him off his guard: Sam dashed forward, the edges of her blades trailing against the floor behind her. She leapt up and prepared to strike with one, but Plasmius was not intimidated. As was expected, she ended up bringing back her weapon, spun once, and kicked out.

The ghost evaded swiftly and caught her foot. Without giving her the chance to recover, he spun on his heel, holding tight to her ankle, only to release her halfway through. She slid across the street on her back, crying out.

As Plasmius took to the air and prepared another assault, Sam gasped and reached out for the blade nearest her. Her fingers closed around it and she brought it up with its sharp edge directed at her attacker, but he acted on reflex.

Plasmius reached out his free hand and pushed it aside. Sam screamed and covered her face with her arm, but his blast missed by at least three feet. Feeling the heat beside her, she opened her eyes and looked around. Pink smoke was emerging from the illuminated road. It was crumbled from the impact.

Sam's gaze returned to Plasmius, but the ghost was high in the air, struggling with something.

"Danny!" she cried, getting back up on her feet.

Danny's arms were wrapped around Plasmius' thick neck, preventing him from moving his head. The ghost fired a few aimless red beams, but Danny managed to shift around them.

"Sam, get out of the way!" he demanded.

"Bu—"

"Now!"

Another red flare reached the ground and Sam jumped back hastily to avoid its contact. Unwillingly, she shot a fleeting glance at Danny and sprinted out of the way of the battle. Danny released Plasmius and kicked the vile ghoul in the back with all the force he could muster, sending him plummeting into the ground.

"Come on, gruesome! It's me you want!"

Plasmius' form slowly emerged from the faint clouds of smoke issuing from the impact. His dark red eyes turned upon the teenager hovering above him.

"Well, well, well," he said, rising to meet his adversary. Danny shot him a look of utmost detest. He clenched his fists as the painful memory replayed itself in his mind. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you again."

Danny's green eyes flashed entirely and he gritted his teeth, but he knew better than to allow his anger to determine his moves. However, he was unable to fight back the powerful waves of ectoplasm that erupted in his fists. Plamius did not seem intimidated.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was seeing you suffering at my hand. All that pain, all that torment, and for what? To save a girl that stands no chance?" He laughed softly and watched as Danny's aura increased. "It was a foolish mistake, Daniel."

"Your last one!" Danny bellowed, swinging his arm through the air. A whip-like green ectoplasm erupted from his fist and advanced on Plasmius. The mutated ghoul waved his hand before himself and the blast faded. Danny had completely disregarded his mind's advice. Driven by rage, he kicked out, spun around, and swung his other leg over. Two adjacent beams followed the first, but, once more, Plasmius merely brushed them away.

"So this is what becomes of the great hero of Amity Park? Pathetic."

He took his chance to attack while Danny threw a mess of green energy at him. The ghost raised his arm before his face as if to shield himself from a violent wind. Then, with a forceful jerk, he thrust it aside. A red barrier followed the movement and materialized before him. Instead of destroying Danny's oncoming attacks, it rebounded them with greater acceleration.

Danny gasped and flew out of the way, but due to years of little practice and the quantity of his own oncoming attacks, his aerial speed wasn't enough. Three blasts hit him in the chest consecutively and he was sent crashing down into the road beneath them. The slash on his back gave another painful sting when he tried to get up. Plasmius landed beside the boy and placed his foot on his chest, forcing him back down. Another red flash appeared in his clawed hand.

"You put up more of a fight when you were still alive, but then, I wasn't as strong then as I am now." He chuckled and a fanged grin broke out on his shadowed face. "Or maybe this is simply the result of being Clockwork's pet. The old man must've lost his tou—"

He was cut short when a green fist made contact with his jaw, throwing him backwards into the pavement. Danny was already running towards him by the time he could register what happened.

The elder ghost became intangible and the boy phased right through. He spun around and snarled, "COWARD! Come out and fight me!"

"I intend to." Plasmius' cold voice sent a shiver down Danny's spine and he whipped around. The ghost was only a few inches away. His rancid breath was the reason for Danny's quick retreat.

The boy turned his back on his rival and took off, ascending into the cool nighttime sky. Plasmius smiled with amusement at the hypocrisy and followed suit.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Grandma!" Sam called, throwing the door open and running into the visible remains of her house. "Grandma, are you okay!"

No reply echoed off the walls; Sam's heartbeat increased. She climbed up the stairs (jumping over the ones that were obliterated) and ran to her grandmother's room. Most of it was in tact.

"Grandma!" she tried again. As silence followed, she made her way to the basement, all the while muttering words of comfort.

"Bubeleh?"

Sam wheeled around and gasped, "Grandma! Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" the aged woman asked, looking around to see what had made that terrible racket several minutes ago. Sam pulled her into a tight embrace and then dialed a number on her cell phone.

"Tucker," she said hastily when the boy answered, "I need your help. I'll explain everything later. Can you watch my grandmother for a while? There's something I have to do."

"Sam—" her grandmother began.

"Not now, I'll tell you later," she said quickly, flipping her phone shut and racing over to the window to get a view of what was going on outside. Unfortunately, it was too dark to see. The lack of spectral energy, however, led to the assumption that the two ghosts had decided to take their battle elsewhere.

"Stay down and wait for Tucker. I'll be right back," she said before her grandmother could stop her.

Sam raced upstairs, trying to see if any of her more useful weapons were undamaged. A horrific sight greeted her when she opened the door.

More than half of her room was completely obliterated. The remaining furniture was either knocked over from the force or partially smoldered. Her bed was gone, along with her personal telephone and laptop. The candles that remained were ignited from the heat. All thoughts of what was going on outside slipped from her mind as she took a few hesitant steps forward.

Her first closet, containing most of the Fentons' weapons she had used many years before, was gone. The pile of clothes that scattered the floor was nowhere in sight. Most of the floor was blasted away.

"No," she whispered, noticing her dresser destroyed as well. She had contained most of her valuable books on it, including her old photo album.

The last time she had looked into that mirror, she had seen the face of a girl weighed down with misery.

The poster of Median beside it, however, was still in tact. The ghost's smirk brought a burning hatred forth. She ran over to the other end of the room, tore it off the wall, and crumpled it up. It landed in the waste basket as she tossed it in rage.

Several seconds of tremulous silence passed before Sam decided to leave the ruins behind. She made her way to the door, blowing out the candles that had been ignited by the destructive blast as she went.

When she reached the last one, however, a gleam of light reached the corner of her eye and she looked down on reflex. There, in the corner of the room, lay a heap of fallen pictures. A teal book was resting on top of a few, bearing the word 'DIARY' in pink letters.

Sam got down on her knees beside it and reached out for a tearstained photograph. Two fourteen year old teenagers were dancing under the starry skies, bathed in the splendor of the moon's light.

She examined the picture carefully. Her heart did not constrict painfully. No tears spilled from her eyes. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered it, for the first time that night registering the fact that _Danny Phantom had returned_.

_Phantom . . . ._, her mind whispered with heavy emphasis, but her negativity would not take control now.

Quickly, Sam began gathering her pictures, piling them up as a smile planted itself on her features. She couldn't help but laugh as the immense weight of grief lifted itself from her shoulders. He was back! He came back! She saw him! She hugged him!

She pulled the pictures close to herself in a tight embrace. Her heart had grown wings. Any second, the joy she was feeling was going to lift it from her body. Any second, she was going to fly . . . with her ghost boy.

Sam lifted the book and flattened out the crumpled pages before placing the stack of pictures between them. She got to her feet and made her way to one of the tables bearing several candles.

However, as she extended her arms to place the book on its surface, a tiny glint of gold fell from within it. Quizzically, Sam reached down for it.

A golden ring with a single teal colored stone rested in her palm. She gasped and read the printed letters more closely. They read 'weS'. A painful memory reentered Sam's mind, bringing her light mood back down to earth. In her hand lay the ring Danny had once planned to give to Valerie.

Her eyes remained fixed on the three letters, wondering what they could've possibly meant. If it was a ring for Valerie, what on earth did 'w.e.s." stand for? She flipped the ring over in an attempt to decipher it and read now, '**S**am'.

It only took Sam three seconds to realize it was her name printed on the little accessory. Her jaw fell agape as lavender eyes went wide.

- - - - - - - - - -

Din broke out amongst the running citizens as a reporter's voice spoke to the crowd from a large screen centered just above them. The confused and terrorized shouts brought laughter to Dan Phantom as he began striking down moving vehicles. Ruins and debris choked the streets.

A tall and slender woman stepped out of her car and cast a dark look at the ruthless ghost. Her red hair was tied neatly behind her and she flattened down the skirt of her suit. Another emerged from the passenger side. She exchanged a glance with her daughter and pulled a teal hood over her head.

"Get your father, dear. I'll hold him off!" she called above the noise. The formal looking lady beside her nodded and took off.

A green flash illuminated the scene for a split second and the girl screamed, stopping in her tracks as a large crater appeared in the ground before her. She looked up and her aqua colored eyes met with the mirthless red ones of Phantom.

"And just where do you think you're going, Jasmine?" he asked with a vile smirk. Jazz narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists, but she was in no position to fight now. Taking several quick steps back, she began to head the other way, pushing her way into the heavy throng. Phantom chuckled coldly and said, "No, you don't get to leave here in one piece."

Another blaze of ectoplasmic energy erupted from his palm and, just as quickly, a matching beam hit him in the chest from Maddie's ecto-gun. While it did manage to steal away his attention, Jazz wasn't quick enough to outrun his assault.

The people around her dashed out of the way only a second before it could reach them. She let out a frightened cry, but an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her out of the way just before it hit, crumbling the ground where she had stood seconds before.

Jazz gasped and looked up at her savior. All air seemed to have left her as she froze, perfectly still; her transfixed blue-green eyes widened to their fullest extent.

"Are you all right?" Danny asked, apparently unaware of whom he was holding. She could only utter a faint noise, much to his puzzlement.

Several of the people below had managed to glance at the scene above. Before long, almost every set of eyes were on the ghost boy.

Danny, quickly parrying a red flare from Plasmius, changed his course and headed for one of the buildings' roofs. He set his nineteen year-old sister down with one last fleeting look before taking off again, too wrapped up in his own world in which he was now the hero again to notice that her eyes were still fixed, inactively, at his back.

"Come on, Daniel!" Plasmius sneered. "Stop running and fight me!"

Growing irritable at Plamius' challenges, Danny flipped around and thrust his arm forward. Five crystal-like spears of ice sped through the air and the ghost had to pause to dodge them. This gave Danny enough to time to find a safe place to fight.

Ignoring the distant cries (some of which were now including the words "Danny Phantom"), the reporter's booming voice overhead on the plasma screen T.V., and the snide comments from Plasmius, Danny spotted an abandoned ally just several yards below.

He pulled into a dive, but a surprise attack met him just as he positioned himself. An unexpected red beam of energy connected with his stomach and threw him further into the air.

He tore through the fierce wind and landed on his back on the sleek floor of one of the adjacent buildings' roofs. The healing slash on his back gave another painful throb as he slid across the granite, finally coming to a stop in the center.

Plasmius, no longer smirking, landed just before the roof's guardrail. He had an eyebrow quirked, but immediately disregarded the occurrence and prepared an ectoblast in his palm. He raised his hand before Danny to strike.

"That was a cheap shot," Danny snapped furiously, slowly getting to his feet and holding tight to his wounded stomach.

"Actually, that was me," a different voice said coldly.

Danny's eyes widened promptly. With the same rapidity, he made to spin around and steal a glance at the offender, but found himself unable to do so as a heated object pressed against the back of his head.

_My guess here is that there are two possibilities of who that could be. I would go with my first instinct, though . . . I'm not going to reveal too much about the later chapters._

_Okay, I have NO clue when my next update will be, for my school schedule is currently tearing me apart. But, I will give you a little hint of what the next chapter will be about._

Chapter 15 – A past shrouded by hate, the return of the ghost boy, and one vengeful opportunity has left them falling, right into the arms of a boy Sam thought she knew.


	15. Phantom FaceOff

_Happy soon-to-be Easter, guys! Wow, it's been a while. I was supposed to have had this chapt up a while ago, but my friend was busy with her vacation plans so she didn't have a chance to beta it until recently. _

_All right, endless thanks to my superb reviewers:_

**Me-agaisnt-the-world, JK rulez, ShieldMaid4JC, kitty-lover66, Plushiemon, kybo, Writer's-BlockDP, The Feral Candy Cane**

_Your reviews really inspired me to write faster. LoL. Thanks a ton guys!_

Quick Note: For those of you who are a little bit confused about the Alternative, I will try to explain it to you. In the beginning, Vlad messed up his experiment and, now the mutated Plasmius, he accidentally plunged himself into the timestream, arriving on the day that Sam, Danny, and Tucker were supposed to go to the movies. The Fatality that occured on that day (Danny's death) was never supposed to happen, but since the timestream became messed up due to Plasmius jumping through it, it did. Everything _including_ and _following_ the day of The Fatality then became an Alternate world, because if Plasmius hadn't screwed up the timestream, none of it would've happened because it normally wasn't supposed to.

So now Clockwork's plans are to go back to before Plasmius entered the timestream and messed things up. Then, he can prevent it and rid themselves of the Alternative world that would've come from that event. As for Dan Phantom, he existed out of time, so if Clockwork froze him during the time of the Alternative and then changed things back to the way the were, he (Dan Phantom) would be lost with the Alternative. If anyone still has questions, please ask and I'll do my best to help you understand. Things might get a little confusing since my updates take so long — some of you might've forgotten most of the beginning of the fic. I'm sorry about that.

- - - - - - - -

Previous Chapter:

_He tore through the fierce wind and landed on his back on the sleek floor of one of the adjacent buildings' roofs. The healing slash on his back gave another painful throb as he slid across the granite, finally coming to a stop in the center._

_Plasmius, no longer smirking, landed just before the roof's guardrail. He had an eyebrow quirked, but immediately disregarded the occurrence and prepared an ectoblast in his palm. He raised his hand before Danny to strike._

"_That was a cheap shot," Danny snapped furiously, slowly getting to his feet and holding tight to his wounded stomach. _

"_Actually, that was me," a different voice said coldly. _

_Danny's eyes widened promptly. With the same rapidity, he made to spin around and steal a glance at the offender, but found himself unable to do so as a heated object pressed against the back of his head. _

- - - - - - - - -

**Alternative**

Chapt 15- Phantom Face-Off

Plasmius took his rival's distraction to his own advantage and released his ectoplasmic ray. Danny caught sight of it and ducked. The weapon that had been against his head a second before fired its own red beam and the two blasts collided, knocking each conjurer back.

Danny reached out a hand and chivalrously caught the person behind him. She dropped her weapon as he pulled her up.

A red helmet concealed her identity, but he didn't have to guess due to many past encounters with the huntress.

"Valerie—"

Her name passed through his lips almost as suddenly as the caveating blue vapor had used to. It was a barely audible gasp, but Valerie's ears were trained to hear the faintest of sounds. Her eyes, clouded with hate beneath her mask, narrowed in raging contempt.

"Ugh!" she cried, pushing him away. As Danny stumbled back, she held out her hand and fired a quick beam from the circuit lines of her palm. The energy collided with its unsuspecting target and knocked him off his feet before he could even stand up straight again. He landed a short distance away from Plasmius, rolling over onto his stomach before coming back to terms with reality. Only seconds later did it occur to him that a battle had begun between the two.

"Ah, Miss Gray," the profligate Plasmius said venomously, apparently missing the confused ghost beside him. Valerie's gaze shifted to him, but she kept her fist directed at Danny.

"Do I know you?" she snapped, throwing a glance at Danny as he prepared to stand up. "Stay down!" she barked.

An unexpected beam of ectoplasmic energy hit her wrist and she cried out and grasped it. Her narrowed eyes darted to Plasmius, who now bore a wide grin.

"This is my battle, girl," he said callously, "and mine alone. Go run along and play with Mr. Phantom."

Valerie opened her mouth to challenge him with her own retort, but she caught herself at his last words and shot a confused look at Danny. He was now back on his feet, watching Plasmius, whose gaze was on the huntress.

"The other one," Plasmius said drolly.

"What other one?" Valerie asked, looking around to try to locate an identical twin of the ghost standing across her.

"You humans are just too much," the ghost said impatiently. He aimed another attack at Valerie and, in a fierce red flash, she was thrown backwards, screaming in surprise. An aerial flip later and the red and black clad girl was slipping over the guardrail, managing just barely to close her fingers around it.

"VALERIE!" Danny cried, sprinting over to her. He stopped clumsily over the edge and held out a hand to her. She looked up with a look of mingled shock and fear, but did not fight him when he tried to pull her up.

Abandoning her stubborn pride, she shouted, "Look out!"

Danny barely had a chance to turn his head when another blast from Plasmius connected with his back, tearing open the wound that hadn't had a chance to heal. His cry nearly deafened the girl he was attempting to save. They were both caught off guard when the force of the attack thrust him into her and sent the two stumbling right over the roof's edge.

Immediately, Valerie wrapped her arms tightly around the ghost, returning his previous earsplitting shout with one of her own. Danny, preoccupied with the intense burn in his back and stunned by her action, missed the windowsill he was trying to reach. He closed a hand around her waist and focused all of his energy on slowing their fall.

Valerie opened her eyes and gasped as the two successfully managed to stop halfway through the air. The calm night breeze ruffled Danny's white hair as he opened his eyes to look at the girl in his grasp. She looked ready to faint. Smiling placidly, he closed his eyes again and began to rise. His body, and hers, he knew, started becoming gradually lighter until they were able to enter an empty room right through the wall.

He set her down before she could recover from the shock.

"Stay here," Danny ordered as he backed away. Valerie stumbled a little and looked down as if to check that they had indeed landed on solid ground. "Try not to interfe—"

"Y-You're not the boss of me!" she said stubbornly (and a little breathlessly), regaining her confident tone. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and I do _not_ follow orders from a—"

_It's good to see you too, Val._

"Look! Just stay down here while I take care of that guy and then you can feel free to argue with me as much as you want, okay?" he interrupted impatiently.

Just as Valerie opened her mouth to respond, the wall beside them deteriorated. Both teenagers jumped back as Plasmius' trademark blast passed right between them. Broken shards of glass littered the floor by the ghost's feet as he landed right before the damage.

"There's nowhere you can hide, Daniel. I'll find you. . ."

And with a quick thrust of his fist, the ghost managed to land a blow at Danny's face. None too stunned, he managed to remain on his feet, but Plasmius was already turned on Valerie.

"It was a mistake to have gotten yourself involved, Miss Gray."

Instinctively, Valerie retreated with caution.

"Leave her alone," Danny demanded, stepping before her. A look of rage took hold of Valerie's expression and she shoved him aside.

"It's too late to start over a new leaf, ghost boy! Who gave you the right to try to act a hero after everything you've done to me!"

"You'd think after three years, you'd have let it go—"

"I can never let it go!"

"Valerie—"

Valerie extended her arm and a mid-sized ecto-gun emerged from her wrist. However, instead of firing at Danny, she redirected her attack on Plasmius, who was not expecting that twist and had no chance to block. The assault did no visible damage, but the smirk was wiped off his face.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," she said, turning, now, to Danny.

"You'll have to wait a little longer," Plasmius snarled, leaping forward and sinking his fangs into her ecto-gun. It began to melt away as soon as he released it. Valerie screamed in panic and removed the weapon. The ghost took hold of her arm and pressed tightly, causing her to cry out in pain.

"Leave her alone!" Danny yelled, dashing forward, but he was hit in the chest and thrown back by another of Plasmius' blasts. The latter ghost released the huntress, throwing her against the wall. She slid down, dazed, to the floor.

"Goodbye, Valerie," he chuckled, aiming one last red beam. Danny forced himself back on his feet and sprinted past the ghost, but as soon as he extended his arm to help the girl, the red flare sped past him and silhouetted his entire form.

Valerie slowly looked up just in time to see his darkened figure before the flash surrounded the scene. She was lifted off her feet and thrown back, but there was no wall now to lean against. The pieces of stone had crumbled beneath the blast's force and were now falling alongside her.

"VALERIE!" Danny cried again, dashing forward, but Plasmius reached out and managed to wrap an arm around the boy's torso, binding him to the spot. He struggled to break free, but by the time the ghost released him, Valerie would have already fallen too far.

Danny phased out of Plasmius' grip and ran forward, taking off into the cool night sky. He scanned the scene below for any traces of the girl, but the distance was too far.

Just as he prepared to descend, a forceful gust of wind knocked him off balance and spun him around so that he was now facing the dark gray blur heading upward.

Plasmius smirked and aimed a feeble blast at the flyer, hitting his target flawlessly. The two girls slipped off the edge, but the Black Guard took hold of Valerie and summoned her weapon. The flyer disappeared, soon to be replaced by a silver and green blade. She thrust it into the wall of the building and broke their fall, leaving behind a thick trail in the brick.

The darkly dressed huntress kicked off against the building and flipped upward, managing to land smoothly within the room whose wall had been obliterated. Valerie landed just beside her and slipped down to her knees wearily.

"Ah, I wondered when I'd be seeing you again," Plasmius said softly. Sam turned around so fast, she ended up getting whiplash and grasped her neck.

Her comrade turned to her with wide eyes and breathed demandingly, "You know him?"

"We didn't exactly start off on the right foot," Sam muttered darkly, taking up her fighting stance and pushing the other girl from her line of focus. "Don't forget, I vowed to get even!"

"Oh, please," the ghoul said carelessly as the girl charged forward. He waved his hand nonchalantly and Sam was thrown back by a powerful, rushing force.

Danny, who had flown in right after them, reached out his hands and caught the girl.

"I thought I told you to stay out of the way," he whispered to her, setting her back on her feet. She merely glanced at him from behind her mask and smiled.

"The Black Guard listens to no ghost."

"Get out of the way!" Valerie demanded fiercely. The two teenagers turned to her, and Sam quickly stepped before Danny.

"Don't shoot!" she entreated, but the girl merely ignored her.

"He tried to kill me!" she yelled, pressing down on the trigger. Danny grabbed Sam and pulled her out of the way, permitting the missile to hit him in the back instead.

"No!" Sam cried, trying to escape his grasp and fight back, but he refused to let her move.

"Leave her to me," Danny said through gritted teeth, cringing as another missile hit him. He stumbled forward, but Sam held him up. Valerie prepared to fire again, but Sam moved around the exhausted Danny just in time to throw her blade over his shoulder. It struck the girl's ecto-gun and knocked it out of her hands.

Valerie recovered quickly, however, and pulled a miniscule ecto-grenade from her belt. Her glove flashed pink for a second and the oval-shaped object in her hand grew twice its size. She pulled her arm back to throw it, but Plasmius caught her halfway through and pushed her against the floor.

"You three are getting on my last nerve, now," he said furiously, emitting a luminescent glow in his clawed hand. Danny released Sam and dashed forward, preparing to strike the ghoul in the back with his own green blast, but Valerie saw him coming.

She threw the weapon over Plasmius' shoulder and it exploded in the air, right above Danny's left shoulder. He dropped down to his knees and clutched his wound, screaming in both agony and rage.

Sam, growing furious, summoned back her weapon and plunged it straight into Plasmius' back. He roared demonically and fired at the ceiling accidentally. She prepared to strike the final and fatal blow of her Duplex-Bane assault with her last spear, but the stone now falling from the impact beat her to it.

Plamius, who was too focused on trying to pull the weapon out of his back, didn't notice the falling debris and was, therefore, unable to evade it. Before long, the center of the room was filled with smoke and crumbled stone.

Sam kneeled down beside Danny and examined his wound, both unaware that Valerie was now pointing a laser at his forehead.

She noticed the Black Guard tending to his injury and glared suspiciously. The town's "greatest hero" had grown soft towards a _ghost_?

"Traitor," she whispered stubbornly, preparing to press down on the trigger. However, Danny Phantom heard the noise and looked up. His green eyes locked with her own; he had lapidified her for those few brief seconds. Her entire body became stiff, inflexible. What was that odd feeling? Familiarity? _Friendship?_

For some reason, a sense of awareness struck her, and the huntress found herself blushing slightly. Her hand began to shake, but she did not lower her weapon.

That cute boyish charm she always secretly admired had stayed with him, even after those three long years of separation. She could feel the enmity return, however, as her mind returned to the fourteen year-old boy that had disappeared after the tragic events of The Fatality.

He called himself a hero; he couldn't even save a single boy's life. Instead, he ran, like the coward he was. It wasn't fair that Phantom got to return. Her luck always seemed unfortunate around that single ghoul — she could have been looking into the face of Danny Fenton, but instead, she had to suffer with the face of Danny Phantom. Even at the opposite end of a loaded weapon, that wretched excuse for a soul was still tormenting her.

Her finger pressed against the trigger, now more unsteadily than before.

His fate was in _her _hands and still _she_ was the one suffering. Her eyes narrowed and she fired.

_Not anymore!_

Sam's eyes darted to the launched missile and she gasped. Her two weapons reappeared in her hands and she spun them desperately until they merged into a single circular blur.

The blow was deflected, but Sam was pushed back slightly from the force and knocked down upon the hard floor. Valerie's eyes widened with rage and the darkly dressed teen took that as her signal to retreat.

Pulling herself and Danny to their feet, she began to run as fast as she could. It wasn't long before the destroyed wall lured the two.

"TRAITOR!" Valerie bellowed, emitting a pink blast from her palm and thrusting it forward with all of her strength.

Without focusing on summoning her flyer, Sam took hold of Danny and jumped right over the edge. Valerie's pink flare illuminated the sky directly above them, barely grazing the tips of Sam's dark hair.

The wind pressed against their skin painfully, but Danny could not focus on flight. Sam held onto him tightly, but the more she screamed, the less the distance between them and the ground became.

She pressed her eyes shut and focused on calling forth her jet sled, but a sudden jolt tore her from her concentration.

"Jumping out of a twenty-story window, BG?" an unpleasantly annoying voice sneered. Sam opened her eyes just in time to feel the arm holding her let go. She and Danny both landed on the ground from a two foot drop.

Median landed smoothly beside them, arms folded across his chest and a smirk planted on his lips. "I always knew you were a bit off, but—"

"Not . . . now," Sam hissed. All thoughts of thanking the ghost had been thrashed. She steadily rose to her feet. Median's smirk widened as he leaned a little to the left to see the person she was standing beside.

His smile faltered for a brief second, but Sam caught the odd gesture before he regained his confidence.

"Well, well," the ghost said smugly. "The infamous Danny Phantom. What an honor, indeed."

He held out his hand to help Danny up, but the older ghost refused when he noticed the look of hatred in Sam's eyes.

"Don't touch him!" she snapped, shoving him away and stepping before Danny. Median's eyes narrowed angrily and a layer of red formed around his green irises, but he covered it up immediately with a casual smile and a shrug.

"What's the matter, BG? I'm just surprised to see that Clockwork's pet was finally let off his leash."

Danny clenched his teeth furiously and made an attempt to stand up, but Sam rested a hand on his shoulder and kept him still.

"What is wrong with you?" the Black Guard asked, jabbing her finger into Median's chest. "A few nights ago, you were practically worshipping the very thought of him."

Median's eyes darted back to Danny Phantom and remained fixed on his new attire for a while before returning his attention to Sam.

"Ah, but he came back," he said carelessly, trying to step around her, but it was a wasted effort. "It destroys the whole dramatic effect."

Sam glanced over her shoulder at Danny and then raised a brow at Median, giving him a nonplussed look. The ghost, however, did not smirk.

"Oh come on, BG. You should be used to this by now. Have I ever been completely sane?"

"The fact that you asked me that answers your question," Sam replied, bringing both eyebrows together in a scowl.

"But it's fun to be a little off . . . you know, unstable," he continued, throwing a glance at Danny and noticing his injured shoulder. The smirk returned at the ghost's wounded state before he returned focus to the Black Guard. "I get what I want, when I want. No conscience to nag at me or hold me down. It's a lot easier. Well, until morning anyway," he said a little bitterly, as a child would after being scolded.

"And what happens in the morning?" Sam forced herself to ask, though, deep down, a part of her wasn't sure it wanted to know.

Median's smile grew wide, but instead of answering her question, he simply said, "The night fears the day, and the day fears the night."

Once again, Sam's eyebrow kicked up in puzzlement. However, it didn't take long to pick up the hint within his words.

"No way," she breathed, looking back up at the ghost, but he was no longer standing in front of her.

"So—"

She spun around immediately at the voice and gasped, noticing Median had grabbed Danny's arm. He pulled the ghost to his feet and pushed him away forcefully. "Let's see if I was right to idolize you."

Danny barely had a chance to regain his balance as a gray cloud of smoke formed around him, lifting him off his feet. He gasped as it began to curl around his arms and legs, steadily becoming thicker and tighter, binding him in the air.

"Leave him alone!" Sam bellowed. She raised one of her weapons, but Median grabbed a hold of her wrist and twisted it. An agonizing rush of pain swept through her at the touch and, not even managing to catch her breath, she dropped it.

"Double-crosser!" she managed to choke out a second later.

"Call me what you will," the ghost said, "I really don't mind. I like my dark side."

Sam could feel his hand beginning to burn her wrist and clenched her teeth harder, but it did little to ease the pain. He continued to hold onto her until she was practically on her knees, trying to pry his hand away from hers. For the first time in living memory, the ghost actually frightened her. He had never before tried to burn a hole through her skin. Nothing was ever taken seriously with him.

For some reason, Danny's appearance had changed that.

Suddenly, Median's startled cry reached her ears and the pressure of his grip was lifted. She fell to her knees and clutched her wrist tightly. The skin was now a sickening raw red.

"Are you okay?" Danny asked, kneeling down beside her.

"Return this to him tenfold!" Sam implored furiously, holding up her damaged arm while throwing a dark glare at the fallen ghost. Obediently, Danny nodded and got back to his feet.

Facing his rival, he powered up two green waves of energy and punched each forward consecutively. Median managed to dodge the first, but the second got him in the jaw and sent him spiraling through the air. He summoned a cloud of gray that wrapped itself around his arms and ankles and stopped the fall midway.

As soon as it appeared, however, it faded away, leaving him to move freely on the ground.

Danny stepped before his kneeling friend to guard the oncoming attack. Within a matter of seconds, his charging opponent was nothing more than a blur. His mind grew more vigilant at the observation.

Feeling an odd breeze whip the back of his neck, Danny immediately spun around and kicked out. His foot connected with Median's chest and he pushed off of the ghost, flipping backwards and landing in a one-kneed squat. Without hesitation, Danny leapt forward and struck his nemesis with an adequate blast.

The double assault managed to bring back a safe distance between the two. Median landed about nine feet away on his back, though he wasted no time in flipping backwards onto his hands and spiraling back to his feet in a swift and complex chain of movements. The smirk, once more, returned to mock them.

Sam got up to move out of the way, but Danny, thinking she was making an attempt to step into the battle, turned to her. In the next second, an immense force collided with his ribs, throwing him to the floor, nearly blinded in the immense pain that was now snaking its way through the rest of his body. Median stopped right beside him and retracted his blazing, clenched fist.

The light emerging from his hand darkened into a deep shade of azure and, in no faster than the blink of an eye, his fist tore through the air again and released the razor-like energy. It struck Danny once more and the ghost's head collided with the pavement.

He coughed and blinked several times, but his vision retained its obscurity. He could barely make out Median's opaque form shifting positions again and exhaled deeply. He wasn't going to go down without putting up a severe comeback first.

Danny phased through the cement at the exact moment Median's fist made contact with it. The specter turned around to search for his invisible enemy. He was caught off guard when one of Danny's own blasts hit him in the back and knocked him off his feet.

While he was down, Danny took the chance to place his right hand on his injured — and possibly fractured — ribs. A radiant white light escaped his palms and traveled around his injury, healing it but causing him more pain. He clenched his teeth and struggled to stay on his feet as the burn grew worse.

"Danny, look out!" Sam called, just before Median shoved her aside in his attempt to get to him. Furious at his action, she pulled her left blade out of the air in a quick flash and pierced it through Median's right shoulder from behind.

The ghost stopped running almost instantly and emitted a difficult and surprised gasp. Sam's eyes widened and she immediately pulled back. But the second she did, Median spun around and grabbed her neck with his left hand. Her hands flew up subconsciously to pry his fingers away.

"This is not your battle, BG," he whispered through clenched teeth. Pure angst reflected in his dark green eyes as the red coloring around them expanded. She could only think of one reason why the specter would suddenly be so ticked.

"Jealous much?" she managed to say beneath his grasp, throwing a glance at Danny. The luminescence was fading.

"You have no idea," Median spat unpredictably, thrusting her back inaptly as he turned to face his adversary. As soon as Sam landed on the ground, she clenched her right fist, ignoring the pain, and rebounded back onto her feet.

Danny slowly opened his eyes as he removed his hand from his fully healed torso, but the vision he received wasn't welcoming. In that split second, Median's fist struck him across the face, knocking him backwards off his feet.

However, in the following moment, an enraged Sam leapt over the falling hero and threw her own fist into the unsuspecting face of Median.

The ghost, taken completely off guard, recoiled at once, holding his cheek. He glanced around wildly until his widened eyes turned upon his attacker; they expanded even more when he found the glaring Black Guard standing before Danny Phantom.

"You!" he snarled viciously.

"Me," Sam replied uncaringly as she rubbed her fingers around her wounded wrist to ease the pain.

"Sam, get back!" Danny ordered, pushing her out of the way with his arm.

Median, however, hesitated to attack. He slowly rose into a straight posture with his hand still covering his face. His dark green eyes darted to the partially concealed girl and he gave her the stubborn look a child would give his parents when grounded. His expression slyly changed into a thoughtful smirk as he examined the two.

"Sweet, sweet irony," he whispered, finally lowering his arm. "The prey and the huntress. I guess opposites _do _attract."

Sam's eyebrows connected in thought for a mere split second. Why did that sound so familiar?

Then, upon realization of what was said, Danny and Sam glanced at each other, scowled, faced Median, and shouted, "Shut up," — both blushing furiously.

"Still," Median went on, ignoring their remark, "I can't help but wonder . . . why? Of all the guys . . . why do they always fall for the hero?"

Sam shot him a look that clearly suggested she thought he was stupid, but it faded quickly and she turned to Danny questioningly.

"Because the hero has morals," Danny said. "But if you're suggesting that you're a villain, you're not a very goo—"

"I'm not a villain," Median said indifferently, though he didn't seem to have been paying attention to his words. His eyes were carefully examining the two.

"SAM!"

Median looked over his shoulder in alarm as Danny and Sam made an attempt to find the voice. What they saw instead was a blinding green light consuming everything in its path. It was flooding toward them.

It took no more than a second for it to pour over Median's form. He turned his head to face the Black Guard just before it could take him. His green eyes reflected a look she had never seen before, one of pure enmity.

A cruel laugh filled the air around them as it hit the teenager from behind. He threw his arms out against it, but the force was too strong.

Danny pushed Sam back and dashed forward.

"DANNY!" she shouted, making an attempt to stop him. Her fingers caught the hem of his shirt, but he tore out of her weak grasp and darted toward Median, holding both hands to one side. His outline merged with the flare as he thrust his arms into the oncoming assault.

An explosive green blaze illuminated the scene and disintegrated the first without effort. Danny leapt back before his own ectoplasm's force reached him. Fortunately, he managed to miss the resulting explosion by a scarce inch as the surrounding air's force thrust him further away.

The street around them came back into view as the remaining few sparks showered the pavement. Sam stumbled to her feet and stared worriedly at Danny's slouched back, expecting him to fall at any moment.

"Danny?"

His head jerked up and he spun around.

"Stay here," he ordered as she stepped forward. She froze and stared at him quizzically, but his eyes were focused on a disappearing speck in the sky.

"Danny, no! It's a trap!" Sam warned, but Danny ignored her.

"He's headed for Valerie," the ghost whispered, unaware of the hurt look that passed his best friend's face. Without another word, he flew off after the receding ghost.

"Sam!"

Sam remained still until a hand rested on her shoulder. Slowly, she lifted her head and turned to face Tucker.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she whispered, looking back up at the sky. "But he isn't."

"Who—?" Tucker began, but Sam cut him off with a gasp.

"Where's my grandmother?"

"I don't know," he replied worriedly, rubbing the back of his neck and taking a step back to avoid Sam's reaction. "We got separated."

"What! Tucker, she's too old to be out on her own at a time like this. She can't fight for herself."

"You don't know your family that well," Tucker muttered, wincing as he rubbed a large bruise on his upper right arm. Sam raised a brow at him, but he didn't have a chance to explain.

A faint groan reached their ears and both teens jumped in alarm. On reflex, Tucker retrieved a tube of lipstick from his pocket and Sam called back her blades, only to find that one had been severely damaged.

A shadowed figure rose slowly from the floor onto its hands and knees. Sam took a step back as it placed a hand to its head.

"Who's there?" Tucker demanded, raising the lipstick in front of his face before realizing how stupid it must've looked. He quickly snatched Sam's good weapon and handed her the laser, ignoring her furious "HEY!"

"Tucker?"

The voice was weak, but the two recognized it immediately. Sam's confusion escalated. The tone did not match the look he had given her just a moment ago. Instinctively, she let her weapons slip from her grasp and sprinted forward. Tucker followed closely behind.

White hair and torn black clothes were made visible by the flickering streetlamp as they neared the wounded boy. He looked up at them with light green eyes, but fear reflected in them as Sam's gaze turned towards his clothes.

"It's true... I-I can't believe it."

They were covered in green blood.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

_Not much to say here, so I'll just go right into the next chapter's sneak peek._

Chapter 16- Sam finds out the hard way that not everything is what it seems. She let her guard down, and now Tucker's taking the hit.


	16. Duplicity

Alternative

_I'm sorry for the INCREDIBLY long wait (a yr and several months I think) and I'm pretty sure most of you already forgot what this fic was about, so there are chapter summaries:_

**Chapter 1:** Vlad's experiment failed, and a mutated and unstable version of Plasmius thrust himself into the wrong time period, ending up at Amity Park one day in the future

**Chapter 2:** After a strange vortex appeared in the sky, Danny fought a new ghost whom he soon discovered to be some form of Plasmius and died trying to saving Sam

**Chapter 3:** Danny had never returned home as a ghost, and Sam's and Tucker's searches through the Ghost Zone proved fruitless. Sam's dreamt of Danny more than once, though this time, something was different — he responded

**Chapter 4:** Since Danny's death, Sam and Tucker have gained a new friend, Damien (who they hardly confide any secrets in because they always subconsciously put him beneath Danny). Sam took over as Amity Park's ghost hunter (known as the Black Guard, much to her dismay), rivaling Valerie. While fighting a ghoul that seemed to have come from out of nowhere, she was about to land the final blow when someone knocked her out of the sky, and then caught her before she hit the ground . . and she caught a glimpse of white hair and green eyes

**Chapter 5:** Sam's attacker and savior disappeared in the blink of an eye. Meanwhile, Danny had finally broken Clockwork's rules and traveled back to Amity Park, where he met a new, masked hunter. He managed to knock her out of the sky (due to her inadvertently attacking him before) and, due to guilt, save her, but Clockwork stopped time before he could see who she was and brought Danny back to the Ghost Zone

**Chapter 6:** Sam's sorrow has finally forced her to relinquish her obsessive hopes of some day finding Danny, until she and Tucker meet up at the Nasty Burger, though the reunion didn't end too well

**Chapter 7:** Sam's evening out was interrupted by the ghost, Median, whose name nowadays isn't mentioned without bringing up the Black Guard (Sam). Median had changed his appearance to look like Danny Phantom, for reasons unknown. As she battled him that night, Median learned that the Black Guard had feelings for Danny Phantom, and fled the battle early as Sam's temper reached a dangerous level. However, Danny, who had seen some of the action from Clockwork's oracle, used Median's fanatic resemblance to Danny Phantom to his advantage and changed his attire slightly to return to the real world and pose as the ghost. The plan worked until he found himself victim to the Black Guard's wrath

**Chapter 8:** Sam fell for the rouse and battled the ghost she believed to be Median, but he did not fight back, adding to her suspicion that the ghost was bipolar. However, when the subject of Danny came up, the Black Guard lost control. But before she could finish the battle, Clockwork intervened again, and Danny realized who was concealed behind the Black Guard's mask. He wanted to stay with her, but Clockwork would not allow it for reasons he would later explain

**Chapter 9:** Clockwork explained to Danny that he was not allowed to see Sam during the past few years because he needed her to miss him, and going back would do just the opposite. The world that they lived in following Danny's death was never meant to happen, and Sam must be the one to go back and fix it in the end (Danny asked why not him as well as several more questions that are answered vaguely in this chapter). Sam's missing Danny as much as she did was essential in the plan's success

**Chapter 10:** It is the third year anniversary of The Fatality (the day that Danny died) and Plasmius has returned again, as predicted by Clockwork. Though this time, he released Dark Danny, who can now reside in this universe because, like him, it is not meant to exist

**Chapter 11: **Clockwork set out to go find Sam and explain several things to her, but he was interrupted by Dark Danny. He left Danny to fight his alternate future self as he went to search for Sam

**Chapter 12:** Clockwork explained to Sam that the world she lives in is an Alternative, and that she was meant to stop it. As soon as he disappeared, Plasmius, who knew Sam had significant ties to Danny and that Danny was in on whatever Clockwork was planning, obliterated Sam's house. She, however, found herself safe from harm in the arms of a familiar, green-eyed boy

**Chapter 13:** Sam was reacquainted with Danny for the first time in three years, only to find that he was being targeted by Plasmius, who showed up to ruin their quick reunion by attacking Danny

**Chapter 14:** Clockwork revealed to the Observants that he knew Plasmius was going to free Dark Danny and he did not stop it because now that Phantom was free in a world in which he belonged, then anything that happened in that world would affect him, which would mean that if the world was to be set back to the way it was meant to be by Sam, Phantom would be destroyed with the Alternative due to Clockwork's blocking him from returning to the thermos. Meanwhile, Danny battled Plasmius and found himself facing another challenge — Valerie

**Chapter 15:** Danny, Valerie, and Plasmius were left fighting each other in a confusing brawl until Sam showed up to help Danny, who, thanks to Plasmius, earned an even worse reputation with Val. They had no choice in the end but to run for it and were, to Sam's astonishment, saved by Median. However, Sam learned quickly enough that Median, who had posed as a fanatic of the infamous Danny Phantom, did not admire Danny at all when he expressed envy toward him and forced a fight on the already wounded ghost. Their fight was interrupted, however, when an unexpected blast from Dark Danny caught Median unawares and Danny had to step in to save him before taking off, leaving Sam and Tucker in the presence of their friend, Damien, who was covered in green blood

**Alternative**

Chapt 16- Duplicity

Sam stood, eyes fixed upon the figure kneeling on the ground. First Clockwork, then Danny, and now this? How much more could she take in one night?

"_The night fears the day, and the day fears the night."_

Those were the words he had said to her only minutes ago.

_Day . . . Dae . . . Damien._

Her injured friend shakily rose to his feet, revealing many wounds and torn clothing from where the blast had hit him. Tucker grabbed Sam's wrist and pulled her back. With his other hand, he held tightly to her blade.

"I don't get it. What's going on?" he asked, upon seeing Sam's deathly pale expression.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her words were directed at someone else.

"I'd like to know the same thing," she said hoarsely to Damien. He turned defiant eyes upon her.

"So, this was your big secret," he said quietly, examining her outfit. He let out a hollow laugh. "You're getting upset at me, but that's a pretty big thing to hide from someone you consider a friend. Though, now that we're being honest, I figured it out a while ago."

"Don't," Sam bellowed, "…don't turn this around on me!"

She grabbed the collar of his shirt, and only now did she realize how cold he was to touch.

"You knew?" she asked.

"You never came back to class that day," he replied. Sam's heart pounded heavily in her chest. She had underestimated him. What else had he known? He said something was her fault . . . that night that she fought him. It came as a shock to her before, but as the memory flashed before her eyes the horrible truth crashed down on her.

"You're . . . Median?" Sam said, with the same bitterness poisoning her tone. Hesitantly, the ghost nodded, though he seemed to have done it halfheartedly. Disgusted, Sam pushed him away.

"Sam," he tried, but she was already making her way back to Tucker, who looked awestruck by their last exchange of words. "It's not my fault."

"Not your fault?" she spat lividly, picking up the damaged blade and laser lipstick she had dropped. "What, are you going to tell me you were sleepwalking then? That all those times you were fighting me—"

"Not sleepwalking, no, but it wasn't conscious. It wasn't me do—"

"Who was it then!" Sam bellowed, color rising rapidly on her pallid face. He had just confirmed that he was the ghost she had rivaled for so long, and to deny it seconds later was insulting her intelligence.

"Median," Damien began, "but—"

"What's the difference?" Sam snapped.

"Everything!"

His shout rivaled hers formidably, and Sam quieted down. He had taken a step forward, but she took one back. He caught the gesture and stopped.

"I. . . I didn't choose this. I didn't want to end up the way I did. I died feeling two different emotions: fear and contempt. It all happened so suddenly, and the two things I was feeling stayed with me when I became a ghost. I was split into two different personalities."

Sam's narrowed eyes lightened slightly as she connected his words to her theories of Median. He had always shown two different personalities.

"One side of me," Damien continued, gesturing toward himself, "was based on the first and dominant emotion: fear. I didn't know what was going on, and everything was happening so quickly. This side is what you see now . . . me, Damien. I stay in this form longer . . . it's sort of the innocent side of me. The second and more subtle emotion created Median."

"How did you die?" Tucker blurted insensitively, but Damien didn't seem to mind. However, his eyes flashed dangerously as he recalled the memory.

"The day of The Fatality," he said almost inaudibly, but Sam's weapons nearly slipped from her grasp again.

"The Fatality?" she repeated as he was about to say more. "But how? Only Danny—"

Her voice was caught in her throat before she could finish the sentence. Damien's fists clenched, and the knuckles paled considerably. It made sense now.

"Danny Phantom," he said. "His disappearance overshadowed my death. The famous Inviso-Bill of Amity Park—" (Sam and Tucker were taken aback; the Damien they were familiar with should not have known that name) "It was Phantom this and Phantom that. Yet this seemingly amazing superhero couldn't even save me before he ran off."

"Then why do you idolize him?" Tucker questioned, but Damien let out a hollow laugh.

"Idolize? I detest him." He gestured toward his white hair and black and white attire. "I changed my appearance to mock him. What better way to honor Danny Phantom's memory than to stain it with Median's wrongdoings? After all, the similarity between our appearances has earned me the title of Amity's 'Second Phantom'."

Sam's eyes narrowed to slits behind her mask.

"So because he got more attention than you, you turned his name to mud?" Her voice came out in a whisper, but it was backed by pure venom.

"So Damien was created from the fear you felt during the panic of what happened that day," Tucker clarified, holding out an arm to stop Sam from advancing, "and Median . . . Median was created by the anger you felt toward Danny Phantom?"

Damien smiled feebly, and then shook his head 'no'. Tucker was taken aback, but he didn't have to ask for an explanation.

"Median," Damien corrected, "was created from an emotion I felt before I died . . . before the news about Danny Phantom started going around. My anger . . . it was directed toward someone else — toward a girl."

Sam's eyebrows quirked at the unexpected statement, and then they disappeared behind her bangs.

"If it hadn't been for her, I might not have died," Damien continued. "She was running in the opposite direction and knocked me over. She got out of the way in time, but I didn't make it. The building was already collapsing and I— My eyes were on her. And then . . ."

He let out a bitter chuckle and redirected his gaze toward Sam, expecting her to reprimand him . . . to tell him that that was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

But Sam had turned a shade of white that seemed unnatural even for a ghost. The yellow pools of light from the streetlamps did little to add color. She stood still, a horrified expression plastered onto her unmoving features.

"Wow, man. All this time, I thought you were afraid of ghosts," he said, shaking his head, "but you were the worst of them all . . ."

"There's only one ghost I'm afraid of," Damien said stiffly, "and that's my other half."

"Ah, come on, everything was just starting to make sense!" Tucker exclaimed. To his surprise, Damien laughed. Even under such grave circumstances, Tucker never failed to amuse them.

"Median and Damien are complete opposites," Damien explained. "I have control of who I am when I'm like this . . . but at night, Median comes out for a few hours, and I can't stop what he does . . . or, what I do. Desire overcomes everything, even morals. My character is extremely unstable during those times."

Tucker nodded, muttering, "My bad, dude, I thought you were afraid of the dark."

"Tucker."

The name was said so gravely that both Damien and Tucker dropped their grins and turned to look at Sam. She had come out of her daze, but the color had not returned to her face. She strode over to Tucker and grabbed his wrist, dragging him out of the alley with her. Damien stood, rooted to the spot as he watched his friends disappear.

"Sam," he called, but he made no attempt to follow her. She stopped in her strides, shoulders hunched, and turned her head just barely to show acknowledgment.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

The few seconds of silence that followed were very uncomfortable. Neither of them moved, and Tucker stared back and forth between the two. Then,

"You were right," said Sam, and she began walking again, leaving Damien behind.

Clockwork's words swam clearly into her mind, as if the ghoul had just said them to her: _". . . the decision to rid yourself of this Alternative will not be as easy at it seems. For, some time along the way, a friend will have to be sacrificed."_

She now understood what he had meant. The Fatality was never supposed to have happened. More than one person lost his life that day, and if she could find a way of setting things back to the way they were meant to be, neither Danny nor Damien need ever had died. But without Damien's death . . . they would never have met and befriended his ghost.

Sam took a deep breath as the memories they had shared flooded back. She shook her head clear of them all. Her decision was made. He'd be better off without the hatred he felt toward that girl that had led him to his death, without the envy of being overshadowed by Danny Phantom, and without the fear of the nights that Median so gainfully dominated.

After all, she had always preferred Danny to Damien, hadn't she?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I don't get it! Where are we going?" Tucker panted as Sam led him here and there across ruined streets. She was constantly scanning the skies. Distant shouts could be heard from afar. Judging by the turmoil of the scenery around them (crashed and upside-down vehicles set ablaze, uprooted trees lying pell-mell over the sidewalks, thick smoke polluting the air, destroyed and crumbling buildings, and crevices so deep into the ground that it was difficult to see where they ended), the people had already evacuated the area.

Sam hurried Tucker past the abandoned streets, careful to avoid the spreading flames.

"Tucker," she said breathlessly, "he — I have to find . . ."

"Who?" Tucker asked, utterly bewildered and trying heavily to keep up with her.

Sam gazed heavenward again, but smoke and distant stars greeted her eyes. Coming to a halt, she turned around to face Tucker, whose wrist was still held tightly in her grasp. He noticed her hand shaking and looked at her with worry.

"Sam, I know you're worried about your grandmother, but I doubt she's up there," he said with a bemused expression, pointing up at the sky.

"Tucker, I'm looking for Danny," Sam choked, trying to fill her lungs as she spoke, but she was itching to continue searching again. "I think he's in trouble."

Tucker's expression softened at once into pity, and he spoke gently when he said, "Sam . . . I think you've lost your mind."

Sam shot him a scowl as he took her hand and patted it, as if she was lying in a hospital bed and he was comforting her. Aggravated, Sam pulled her hand from him and said, "Tucker, I know it sounds crazy, but I saw him. It wasn't a dream . . . he spoke to me, he . . ."

But her voice faltered when she noticed that the skepticism in Tucker's eyes had not faded.

"Sam, it . . . it might have been a trap."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, utterly amazed that he was not completely beside himself with joy at the prospect of seeing his best friend again.

"Well," Tucker said, rather nervously, "you know, that guy who attacked you and Damien earlier . . . I saw who it was. It was Dark Danny."

Sam's amethyst eyes narrowed beneath her mask. She composure faltered, and a look of disbelief took hold of her.

"What?"

"I dunno how he managed to come back," Tucker said, "but I think he's the Danny you saw. Don't you remember how he tricked us into believing he was our Danny years ago?"

"Tucker, that sounds valid enough, but he fought Plasmius for me. He _saved_ me."

Tucker's expression of pity returned, adding to Sam's discontent. He wasn't convinced.

"Forget it then," she said quietly, turning her back on him. "I'll find him on my own."

"Sam, it's not that I don't want—" Tucker paused, trying to find the right words. "You know I'd give anything to have him back, but I don't want to get my hopes—"

Sam let out a gasp and his hand closed painfully against her arm. Before she could grasp what had happened, Tucker jumped to the side, pulling her with him. The two hit the jagged cement of the cracked ground and Sam tasted blood as she lifted her head up.

At that exact moment, a deafening sound pressed against her ears, and she shrieked as a tremendous wave of green light spilled over them, reverberating in the ground below. The explosion roared in their ears, and the street they lay upon began to crack further. Stones were sent crashing down on them, and Tucker dragged her along the ground, trying to avoid the falling rubble.

She looked up in time to see the ruins of a building crashing down to the ground, its deteriorated walls cascading down with it as heavy smoke was sent to the already heavily polluted air.

Sam gasped, clutching the boy beside her. If he hadn't pulled her away in time, that blast would have made direct contact with its targets. Stiffly, she turned her head to see a silhouetted figure approaching.

"Stay here," Tucker said, picking up a rather large stone and raising himself into a squat. He stealthily moved around the fallen trees they had taken refuge behind and watched as more shadows appeared. However, as the smoke cleared, it became evident that they were not on their side.

Ghostly green, the ghouls wailed as they neared the teenagers. For a second, he wondered whether they had been the cause of the blast, but he was skeptical. They seemed liked zombies, merely tools of another, more powerful source. It was doubtful that they could emit something that powerful. He had no time to contemplate further, for one of the ghouls had appeared right beside him, bearing fangs he had not anticipated.

Tucker dropped the rock and receded as it attempted to bite him. Sam took notice and stepped up beside him, summoning her blades, though they were now so damaged she doubted they'd be anymore useful than a baseball bat.

"What are these things?" Tucker asked, eying them warily. Then, all of a sudden, they charged at once, tearing at the air with their fangs. Their eyes gleamed red in the smog, and Sam wasted no time in fighting them off.

"Danny!" she called, finding it difficult to hold them all back at once. For such small ghouls, they posed more of a threat than she was able to handle. They were surrounded by them, and she was sure those fangs carried something harmful.

"Sam!"

Her defense had not been enough. Dozens of ghosts had already made contact with Tucker. He was on the floor, trying to fight them off, but to no avail. Sam whipped her blade around, catching one in the face as it tried to deliver a very unpleasant looking bite. But her distraction had given them the advantage. Swiftly, they dove in at her, and she was only able to catch a glimpse before a loud cry reached her ears.

But it was not her own. The few spirits that had tried to maim her were left nothing more than green vapor. Its fellows redirected their attention to their assailant, and Sam's heart skipped a beat as she saw the figure, standing several feet away with his hand outstretched.

"Danny!" she gasped.

Sure enough, the deceased teenager smiled at them.

"Get behind me," he ordered. Sam nodded and pulled Tucker up to his feet. Danny landed beside them as the ghouls bore their teeth and advanced again. The trio stood, waiting as the massive wave of green came crashing down through the air, like raining spears.

Swiftly, Danny drew back his arm and then swung it forward. A thin, blade-like flash of green was emitted from his arm and it cut a horizontal line through several of the ghouls. He drew a shield above them and watched as the others darted into it. The force of the impact was immense, and Danny's knees buckled under the pressure. The shield seemed ready to falter when he threw his arms out, and in correspondence, it burst into green flames and encompassed the group. The majority of the assailants were wiped out on contact, but those remaining surrounded the teens from all ends. Danny's eyes were darting back and forth, determining how best to face them. He didn't notice that Tucker was staring at him, mouth gaping and eyes wide in bewilderment. He looked as if he was about to say something, but he never had a chance. The ghosts had let out ear-piercing shrieks that caused Sam and Tucker to press their palms around their ears, faces contorting with pain.

Danny remained serene to the noises and allowed green ectoplasm to flow into his hands. He rotated and sent the energy spiraling around him. The rotation powered the ectoplasm, which expanded, cutting into the advancing ghosts. Still their numbers dropped notably.

Smirking at his triumph, Danny completed his one-footed pivot, half suspended in air as he thrust his arm forward. The energy followed like a whip, building into a blast that cut deep into the earth.

Sam and Tucker felt the full force of it as the ground crumbled beneath them from the impact. Tucker pulled her behind him defensively, but the effort was unnecessary. Before any attack came their way, Danny had inhaled deeply and then exerted the breath into his signature wail.

Rings of green energy roared with the wind, cutting through the targets with so little effort it would have seemed that they were merely illusions. The two bystanders watched as the ghouls were vaporized without so much as a last cry.

Danny's wail grew louder, sinking them several feet lower as the earth tore away beneath it. Sam shut her eyes as the gust swept around them. Tucker would have followed her action, if not for the strange sight that caught his gaze. Wide-eyed, he stared transfixed at Danny . . .

_Since when did he have fangs?_

The thought barely passed through his mind by the time the fangs were hidden again, for the wail had ceased and Danny now turned to them with a smile.

"Tucker . . ." he said, opening his arms and flashing a smirk. Tucker's eyes narrowed and he receded a bit.

"Sam, that's not Danny!" he said. Sam turned to him with an exasperated look carved on her weary features.

"Tucker—"

"Look at his eyes, Sam!" Tucker bellowed. "That's not Danny!"

The ghost before them failed to conceal the red flash his eyes had let slip at Tucker's first statement. Sam made to turn around, but he swiftly drew his arm around her throat and forced her to her feet.

"Sam!" Tucker yelled, but Danny's hand flashed green and Sam fell limp in his grasp, barely conscious. Tucker seemed rooted to the spot. He could only watch in horror as the figure of his best friend returned to its original state. His heart echoed in his ears as he stood face-to-face with the ghost that had once tried to kill him.

"Tucker," Dark Danny said silkily, and the voice felt like venom to the boy who was addressed.

"You . . ."

"Me."

And before they could exchange another word, the ghost pulled Sam closer and sunk two pointed fangs into her left shoulder. She let out a gasp, and then crumpled to the floor when he let go of her.

"SAM!"

The action was enough to trigger a response. Tucker shoved fear to the back of his mind and dashed forward. Phantom laughed and said, "Please . . ."

He emitted a blast and released it at Tucker's feet. The latter stumbled, and by the time he regained composure and looked up, it was only to have Phantom's elbow slammed into his face. He was knocked across the jagged crevices and emerged on his hands and knees, bleeding heavily from his nose and lip. Phantom laughed mockingly, but Tucker forced himself back onto his feet.

"Let her go!" he bellowed, and he charged again, without fear of the consequences. Phantom's laughter ceased, and his eyes turned to slits as his sadistic smile grew. If the boy wanted to humiliate himself, then he was going to humor him.

Tucker drew back his arm and clenched his hand into a fist. He aimed a punch at Phantom, who effortlessly evaded the blow by tilting his head; he grabbed Tucker's fist in one hand, his arm in the other, and then flipped him over his shoulder.

Tucker caught a glimpse of Sam before he was upended, and with a sudden spark of determination, landed in a squat and swung his leg over. Phantom was caught at the ankles and keeled over, turning his head over his shoulder just as Tucker aimed a direct kick at his head. He was caught in the face and fell back, rolling over on the dirt several times before he pushed off with his arms and lifted his upper body off the ground. Murder was in his eyes, but Tucker reflected it in his own as he stood back up and clenched his fists warningly.

He had always been the sidekick when Danny was around, and even then his marks were terrible when it came to physical activity. They improved no more when Sam took up the position of guarding the city. He had always been simply the back-up and, quite frankly, he never had a clue as to what he was doing.

But this time, the burden was thrown upon him, and he could not retreat, for that would require leaving another one of his friends to die. Bearing this is mind, Tucker accepted the oncoming blast that Phantom had thrust and racked his brains to find a way to evade it. He was in front of Sam, so stepping out of the way would do no good.

Swiftly, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved the ecto-gun Sam had handed him earlier. Heart racing, Tucker pressed the trigger and the two beams of energy collided in a shower of sparks. From his other pocket, he withdrew the laser lipstick that once belonged to Mrs. Fenton and aimed it at the ghoul.

Phantom was back in the air now, and the collision of the blasts had temporarily distracted him. He was blocked by a wall of smoke and used that time to create a clone. However, he had not foreseen the flash of red that approached from the other end of the smog until it had cut through it and collided with his arm.

His deafening roar shook the skies, and loose debris crumbled from the fallen and burning buildings. Flailing in pain, the ghost crashed to the ground clutching his arm, which now seemed damaged beyond repair. The beam had struck him in a sensitive area, and he could draw no more energy with that limb.

Blood-red eyes scanned their surroundings and settled upon Tucker, who had retreated to fetch Sam. Phantom let out a cry of rage and then, in a cloud of smoke, emerged in between the two teenagers. Tucker receded at once and raised the ecto-gun again. However, Phantom struck out with his hand and knocked the weapon away.

Tucker could barely register what happened by the time the clone appeared beside the original, though both of his arms were intact. The second Phantom struck Tucker in the face and the boy fell back.

"Tucker . . ." Sam moaned from behind the first, for he had grasped her to prevent any attempts at running away. It was only when he touched her arm that she realized it was excruciatingly painful and looked down to find that her shoulder and a bit of her left arm were black. The ghost had penetrated her with poison when he bit her.

"Leave her alone!" Tucker demanded, but he was running now without his ecto-gun, which lay buried within one of the many deep cracks within the ground. The laser lipstick had been dropped beside Sam when he had tried to help her up.

The clone stepped in between the charging teenager and the original wounded Phantom. A flare of brilliant green illuminated his hand before he thrust it at Tucker, who dived at that moment but could not evade it completely. The blast struck his leg, and he let out a gasp as he slid across the ground. His assailant bore a smirk and watched the boy struggle, but his sneer disappeared at once.

Tucker withdrew from his pocket a cracked PDA.

"Dude," he said, examining it sorrowfully as green smoke issued from the broken screen, "Why is it _always_ my PDA?"

Phantom ignored the remark and charged forward. He threw another blast, but Tucker tossed his PDA on reflex and it, once more, took the hit for him before bursting into hundreds of miniscule pieces and scattering around them.

Tucker took the opportunity to run headlong toward his rival. Phantom just barely managed to catch a glimpse of him on the other side of the smoke. Tucker had thrown a punch that he had only barely caught in his hand (though the force of it caused him to slide back several inches), and Phantom immediately returned it with his free hand, which Tucker blocked in the same manner. With both of their arms in the others' grasp, Tucker pressed his heel into his rival's foot and then broke free of his slackened grasp and elbowed him callously in the stomach. The winded ghost was knocked off his feet and fell several feet back before coming to a halt on the jagged cement.

He had only raised his head off the ground by the time Tucker was on top of him, landing blow after blow to his face. The latter would have lost the will to continue such close contact if not for the fact that his rival had begun to bleed under the impact of his punches.

"Tucker!" Sam cried in the distance.

Tucker had already struck another blow by the time he looked up, but his fist collided with the ground. Yelling out in pain, he looked back down to find that his victim had vanished, and his knuckles were now sporting the same injuries as his face. It was only when he got back to his feet that he managed to catch sight of a flash of green.

His eyes widened in horror as the demonic face of the original Phantom came into view only several feet away. His mind could not send the message to move quickly enough. Phantom had used his good arm to emit an ominous green light, and within a split second, his attack had made contact with Tucker's chest, right over his heart.

He was knocked off his feet and sent spinning through the air, colliding with the wreckage of the scene before he finally hit the ground with a gasp that felt like ice to his lungs. He could feel his heart losing pace . . .

"_NO!_"

Sam's shriek pierced the air for several seconds, echoing loudly in Tucker's ears. He had only heard her scream like that once . . . several years back. The sound was replaced by several loud thuds . . . and then his heart gave in, and its last effort died feebly with him.

_It was very subtle . . . but the girl who caused Damien's death was mentioned earlier on in the story . . . in chapter 3_

_And, I'm sorry to all of those Tucker fans out there. I wanted to give him his last glory before . . . well, yeah. At least he managed to rearrange Dark Danny's face._

_Thanks to: _**JK rulez, ffnetlover, me-agaisnt-the-world, bluename, dpluver, kybo, Dragon's Hitokiri**


	17. Back At Fentonworks

Alternative

_After a year of silence, updates are going to be a lot quicker now. The story's coming to an end now, but there are still a few more chapters left._

**Alternative**

Chapt 17- Back At Fentonworks

Screams shattered the deserted street, shaking the polluted night sky. Sam had finally snapped. She could not feel her lungs beseeching her to stop; her cry tore through the air like Phantom's assault through Tucker's chest. Her friend lay dead on the street only yards away, limp against the rubble, deaf to her lament.

She did not care that her left arm up to the elbow was dead due to poison; she did not care that her blades could no longer cut through the ectoplasmic ghoul effectively enough to stand a chance against him; she disregarded the gruesome pain that cut through her as she forced herself onto her hands and knees and then back onto her feet. Her amethyst eyes lay beneath her cracked mask, and they shot a murderous look at Phantom.

He stood over Tucker's body only a second longer before turning back to Sam, a smirk set upon his lips that landed a blow harder than any other he had physically dealt her that night. For a split second, her eyes fixed on Tucker, and then common sense managed to take hold of her.

_He died protecting you. Don't let it be in vain._

She wanted nothing more than to destroy the bastard, but that chance would not come now. So instead, she called forth her blades and brought them together to form her jet sled, which, to her relief, was still functioning.

"COWARD!" Phantom cried, as she leapt onto it and took off. She turned just in time to see him soar after her, as if not satisfied at all that he had already killed off one of Danny's friends. It was all a game to him, and he did not want her to win.

Sam's expression was frozen with grief, but she allowed herself an inward smirk upon seeing one of Phantom's arms, very much like her own, damaged beyond repair. Tucker had at least made him vulnerable. But her sorrow closed around her heart once more as she realized that her friend had finally managed to see Danny, only to later find it was the wrong one and be slain by him.

She could hear panic in the air now, for she was flying over streets full of citizens, though its condition was no better than the last. Buildings were ablaze, cars were upended, streets contained potholes with pink smoke issuing from them — but what made the scene sickening to the eye was that there were people lying on the ground, unmoving, while others rushed by them without a glance, fear scarred on their faces as they looked for loved ones they knew they might never see again.

And in the center of it all, one sleek, black building stood intact, and the plasma screen television that had been placed for public view was now drowned out by the din below. A female reporter was occupying most of the screen from within a studio, and in the upper right corner, a camera was desperately trying to zoom in on something. It wasn't long before it managed to focus on the top of the black building, and Sam saw, to her utter horror, a flash of pink light.

She redirected her flyer and headed straight for it, just as a flash of green was sent her way. She had averted it just in time, but at the cost of nearly slipping off.

"Why do you run, girl?" Phantom bellowed from behind. "I thought you wanted to avenge your friend . . . or did he die defending a coward!"

But Sam ignored his taunts. She had no idea what her next move was, or what she'd be facing when she got to that point. All she knew was that somewhere in Clockwork's mind, this scene had already played out. He hadn't told her whether the outcome of this event would be in her favor or not — his words were _"I know what happens and how this ends. Whether it be an ending you find satisfactory or one you would not be content with, I will not go against my oracle._" — but Sam had always assumed somewhere in the back of her mind that she would be victorious.

Only now did she really understand how stupid she was to think that. Her weapons were useless and could no longer do more than hit the enemy. Any traces of ectoplasm in them were damaged, and they would do nothing to a ghoul. She was relying then on her Duplex-Bane assault, but it was rendered useless now.

Sam dropped down in a one-kneed squat and clutched the sides of her flyer as she directed it into a sharp ascend, soaring up along the sleek edifice. The wind lashed out against her face, and the sky's blue-gray colors seemed to streak past her as she picked up speed. She was now flying vertically along the plasma screen T.V.

The reporter's voice reappeared and Sam caught mention of the Black Guard — she was now in direct view of the camera. The bright luminescence of the giant screen was replaced by black again as she neared the top of the building, only now noticing that that top few stories had fallen victim to Plasmius' wrath.

She slowed down and her flyer obeyed, hovering several feet above the still more damaged roof, upon which a battle seemed to be taking place.

Sam leapt off and landed shakily on the crumbled stone. She looked around; Valerie was lying on the floor at the opposite end of the roof, a gash evident on her face and blood pouring profusely from it. She was, Sam hoped, only unconscious.

Uneasily, Sam took off at a jog and then broke into a run, though her legs felt ready to give out. She was cut off halfway through, however, as a large figure was sent crashing to the ground right before her.

Her startled cry caught the attention of the fallen ghoul and he turned blood-red eyes upon her. His lips curled into a smile that revealed both fangs. Before Sam could retreat, he leapt up at her.

No sooner had he grabbed her arm than another wrenched her free of his grasp. Sam stumbled back and just barely caught a glimpse of Danny, who had used one arm to push her away and the other to slam Plasmius right in the jaw.

"Danny!" Sam bellowed, but Danny could not afford to even glance at her. The ghouls were back to their fight, throwing punches, kicks, and blasts that were dodged effortlessly.

Plasmius aimed an ominous red flare at his teenage rival, but Danny flipped backwards and it narrowly missed him by an inch. Sam had to duck to avoid it as well, and when she looked back up, Danny had landed in a squat and had his back toward Plasmius so that he was now facing her. Their eyes never met, however, for he spun around just as swiftly as his feet touched the ground and, leaning back so that his hands reached the floor, he kicked up and swung his left leg over, hitting his rival once more in the jaw. The latter stumbled but regained composure almost immediately. Danny was back on his feet; he dashed forward with a green blast in his palm and sent it directly into the ghoul's stomach.

Revenge clouded the teenager's dangerously dark green eyes and he thrust blow after blow at his nemesis. But Plasmius was always quick to recover. Sam stood, feeling more and more useless as the battle progressed. It was only after a thick arm wrapped around her throat that she remembered who had followed her.

"Da-nny!" she choked, and Danny turned around at once, arm suspended in the air from the punch he was about to deliver Plasmius. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Phantom rise into view over the rail of the roof. Sam's hands were working furiously to relieve herself of his grasp. It wasn't long before the poison spread further into her left arm and it fell limply at her side. He was going to suffocate her . . .

Danny abandoned his enemy at once and kicked off the ground and took flight.

Phantom chuckled, but he did not attempt to defend himself. Instead, he grabbed Sam's shirt and tossed her violently aside. She collided clumsily with the guardrail, clenching her teeth in agony as it pressed into her back.

"SAM!" Danny bellowed, reaching out an arm to her as he slid against the ground and then kicked off again to follow her after Phantom tossed her away.

Sam's eyes scanned the ground below as she slipped over the guardrail. People had gathered below to watch the fight on the giant screen.

A stream of words flitted through her mind, and a flash of green struck Phantom from the corner of her eye, but Danny was too late.

She had fallen, and the wind was now tearing relentlessly at her back as she sped down across the building. Danny had only just leaned over the rail and reached a hand out to her. Their fingers were so close, but he closed his hand around air.

"NO!" he bellowed, opening his hand and reaching forward again in another attempt, but it was too late.

The sirens blared noisily in her ears, and she closed her eyes. However, a faint smile played at her lips, and she kept her hand high above her as she fell, knowing exactly what was going to happen—

—unless it was just a dream after all.

No . . . a cold hand closed around her wrist, and her descent slowed down. After years of only _almost_ reaching each other in dreams that were too quick to end, their hands had finally grasped one another. She opened her eyes and smiled as Danny's brilliantly green ones gazed back at her. He pulled her into his arms and stopped in midair.

"Danny," she breathed, wrapping her good arm around his shoulders. He smiled back at her.

"I couldn't lose you again."

A roar of incoherent shouts came from below, as the cameramen on the adjacent roof zoomed in on Danny Phantom's face. The reporter's voice was drowned out on the screen they levitated in front of, but her announcement was unnecessary. They had all seen him.

"You've got fans," Sam said to him, but Danny's smile faltered.

"Sam, I need you to stay as far away from here as possible," he warned, and Sam's fleeting euphoria disappeared at once. "Find Tucker and run away. They know who to go after to make me vulnerable, and I can't risk losing you guys."

"Danny," Sam said quietly, "Tu—"

"Sam, according to Clockwork, it's you who's got to fix things. If you die, everything remains how it is now."

Sam couldn't bring herself to tell him about their friend, and she closed her mouth as soon as she opened it. An irrepressible determination ran through her blood, and she closed her eyes and leaned against Danny's cold chest.

Danny, Tucker . . . Damien . . . she had no weapons to help her now, and she was only getting in Danny's way, just like the last time.

If it was up to her to set things right, then she had to do what he said. But never did she feel as helpless as she did right now.

_Run,_ Sam told herself bitterly, _it's all you're good for now. Turn your back on the people you're supposed to save and run._

But there was nothing else for it. With tears in her eyes, she looked once more at Danny's face, at features that reflected all the bitterness and sorrow he failed to suppress, and nodded stiffly.

It was at that moment, however, that a fierce roar shattered the moment between the two, and they looked up in time to see both Phantom and Plasmius speeding down toward them. The citizens below began to scatter, and panicked cries rose higher than ever as blast after blast was sent their way. With Sam in his arms, Danny could do nothing more than dodge them. He pulled her into a more comfortable grasp and then sped through the air, away from their attackers.

He seemed to have no clue where he was going, for the only thing on his mind was to shake Phantom and Plasmius off their trail. He swerved in between streets, phased through homes, and took such sharp turns that Sam nearly fell from his grasp. But in the end, they had lost their rivals. Sam glanced over his shoulder, sighed with relief, and then looked at Danny, but his expression was like stone and his eyes were examining the streets before them.

"Where are we going?!" Sam bellowed, though the question she had really meant to ask was 'Why are we _here_?'. He was flying over a very familiar neighborhood now. Her heart throbbed painfully as she saw the sidewalk . . . the sidewalk she had been knocked into three years prior when Danny took her place in front of Plamius' assault. This was where it all happened.

But he was going further, and Sam watched it disappear behind her as he turned the corner into the next row of houses.

She felt a familiar sensation pass through her before she and Danny phased through the wall of an old, red building with a sign whose lights had faded out a long time ago.

"I need to find Clockwork," Danny finally answered as he came to a halt in a large living room. Sam looked around at the scene. The house was deserted at the moment, but no new pictures lined the walls since she last visited. Only the furniture seemed to have been moved around a bit, but all in all, they had kept it the same.

"I don't have a clue as to how to stop this," he said, and he was now examining a watch on his wrist, trying to get the hands to move, but to no avail. "We need to get into the Ghost Zone," he said, turning back to her. Sam understood at once, and she was inwardly grateful that he had said this, for she needed to find out as much as she could about her so-called destiny as well.

Danny looked around, trying to locate the door that led into the basement. The place was so nostalgic, and he did not conceal the look of longing as he examined his old home.

"Danny," Sam said quietly, reluctant to interrupt, but they were running out of time. "It's this way."

"Huh? Oh. . . right."

He tore his eyes away from the portraits and followed her to a door that was already opened. They dashed down the stairs and stepped onto a cold, linoleum floor. The lab would have been pitch black had it not been for the eerie green pools of light emanating from the open Portal at the far end of the room.

"It hasn't changed a bit," he muttered under his breath, but Sam heard it clearly in the silence. He stepped forward and Sam followed hesitantly behind as they neared the ghostly passageway.

"I want you to come with me this time," he said to her as they stopped before the Ghost Portal. She knew he was offering because it would be safer in that realm than in the one they were currently in (ironically enough), but she accepted without hesitation. He smiled for the first time in three years the way he used to whenever the trio was about to pay a visit to the Ghost Zone for one of their little adventures, and Sam's fears melted away for that brief second. He reached a hand out for her to take, but she just barely had a chance to raise her own.

For it was right then that a shuffling of feet was heard, only to be followed by a brilliant flash of light and a pained gasp. Danny was knocked off his feet and sent crashing through tables of beakers and tubes until his back finally collided with the wall and he collapsed onto the floor.

"No!" someone shrieked, but it was not Sam. The lights overhead were turned on and Sam had to shield her eyes from the sudden illumination.

When she opened them again, it was to find Maddie Fenton standing over her son with a lethal firearm aimed and ready.

And then she pressed down on the trigger.

—————————————————————————————————————————

_Well, it's Sam who's got to fix things anyway, isn't it? Don't kill me for this._

_The next chapter is written, so updates shouldn't take too long. It's got plenty more action, so stay tuned _)

_If you like the story, please do review. I would love it._


	18. Danny's Last Fight

It happened so quickly that Sam barely even drew a breath

_Before anyone reads on, please __**be aware of the change from Phantom/Dark Danny to Plasmius**__ and vice versa so as not to get confused when reading this._

**Alternative**

Chapt 18- Danny's Last Fight

It happened so quickly that Sam barely even drew a breath. Maddie's green beam exploded right above Danny, but it never made contact. Instead, a red bolt of light intercepted it and the two collided, leaving smoke in their wake.

Maddie pulled her hood off her head and turned around. Jazz was breathing rapidly with a weapon in her hand that she had managed to pull off the shelf beside her during her mother's first assault. Without thinking, Sam ran in front of Danny and threw her arms out defiantly. Maddie glanced back at her and then returned to her daughter.

"What is wrong with you two?"

She searched Jazz's eyes, but there was nothing strange about them. They were their usual shade of teal. Sam could hardly remember seeing Jazz so lifelike since the accident three years ago.

"Mom, I know you're going to have a lot of trouble believing this," she began, lowering her weapon just slightly, "but you have to leave him alone. He's on our side—"

"Jazz!" Maddie spat indignantly, and Sam had the sudden feeling that the two had discussed something in which she did not partake.

"I know," Jazz said, but her tone did not soften, and her eyes remained passionate behind her words:

"I know what you think, but believe me, he didn't run."

"Your brother!" Maddie bellowed, and Jazz's gaze fell to the floor.

"He couldn't have saved him if he tried, Mom," she said softly. "And he didn't abandon him . . . I can't explain it, but . . ."

"Jazz. . ." Danny whispered from behind Sam, and all three women turned to look at him. They hadn't even noticed that he was trying to stand up again. Maddie's attack did little more than temporarily weaken him.

"Danny," Sam whispered, and she dropped down to her knees to support him, but he was able to get back on his feet without her help.

His luminescent eyes had interest only for the pale teal ones of his sister. Her expression softened as she looked back at her brother. So many unspoken words of gratitude seemed to pass between them as they took each other in for the first time since his eternal departure.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, but she only smiled back, despite the sorrow written in her expression.

"I knew you'd be back," she said with a weak and somewhat hollow smile.

Maddie glanced back and forth between the two in disbelief. She was bewildered. For a second, she wondered whether her daughter and the ghost had had something going on between them before he disappeared. The very idea made her feel sick with anger.

She was about to interrupt their conversation, but someone beat her to it.

"Isn't that sweet," a venomous voice said mockingly, and at once, Danny stepped in front of Sam. Jazz turned around to face the stairs.

"JAZZ!" he bellowed, but his voice cracked as a streak of red collided with his sister. She was thrust back mirthlessly and landed on the floor, rolling several times before finally coming to a halt by Maddie's feet.

"Jazz!" her mother screamed, dropping down on one knee and placing a hand to Jazz's face.

"No!" Danny cried, dashing forward. He had just barely conjured a shield before another green blast could strike the women.

Maddie gasped and turned to him with disbelief in her eyes, but his defensive actions had left him wide open for an attack that Plasmius was all too willing to deliver. Danny was struck in the ribs and was sent spiraling through the air until he came to a rough collision with the ground, sliding several feet before he stopped with his hand against the floor.

"Stop it!" Sam demanded. Plasmius had appeared in a whirl of red smog, followed only a second later by Phantom. A howl of rage escaped the latter as Sam thrust a blade into his side, but it did not have the effect she had been hoping it would. He phased through it with ease and then closed a hand around her throat.

Danny darted forward and aimed a punch at Phantom, but Plasmius slipped in between the two and closed a red hand around Danny's wrist. The younger of the two cried out and fell to his knees subconsciously. The red flare was burning through his skin.

He drew back his other arm and thrust it forward. Plasmius leaned back and Danny's fist missed his face by an inch. He pulled his wounded hand out of the slackened grasp and jumped back a foot. Plasmius had just pulled himself upright again as Danny kicked off the ground and did a summersault in the air.

His leg came crashing down upon Plasmius' head and the ghoul was sent face-first into the ground, which cracked beneath the force. He rolled out of the way just as Danny's fist made contact with where his face had left its imprint seconds ago. It cracked further and Danny's fist was buried beneath the tile. He phased through it in time to pull his arm before himself defensively against Plasmius' attack. After deflecting the assault, he spun around and kicked out, sending a green flare at Dark Danny. He was struck in the chest and stumbled. Sam pulled away from him and kicked the ghoul in the chest, throwing him off balance and sending him crashing to the floor as she moved away as quickly as possible.

"You're dead!" Plasmius threatened Danny, who returned his attention upon him with narrowed eyes as the ghost charged.

"Yeah, I know — you saw to that!" he bellowed hatefully, dropping down the ground and jumping up into a handstand. His enemy was struck in the jaw by his swift kick and flew up into the air to lessen the force of the attack. Plasmius' eyes were replaced by a red light and two beams of ectoplasm escaped them. Danny gasped and crossed his arms before his face before becoming intangible and phasing through the ground, but he let out a grunt that signified that Plasmius' blast had reached him. The ground was obliterated under the impact; Danny reappeared seconds later beside Sam, clutching himself just below the ribs.

Plasmius' energy seemed to double with the fight's progress and he threw his arm out as soon as Danny appeared. His eyes widened in surprise, but he could do nothing before the blast struck its target, throwing him against a wall that cracked from the pressure. Danny stumbled forward, but Phantom joined in and dealt a violent uppercut that sent his head back. His neck cracked from the blow and he winced. When he opened his eyes, they focused on the ceiling. He was struck again in the stomach before he had a chance to readjust his gaze.

Maddie was back on her feet with her bazooka raised. Phantom caught her from the corner of his eye as soon as his hand closed around Danny's torn shirt. Danny was spared the attack, for his rival's attention was now on Maddie. He held out his free hand and emitted a long wave of ectoplasm that tied itself around her ankle like a snake. The rope receded, pulling her forward so that she fell against her back before she could fire her weapon. The bazooka landed on the ground beside her.

Maddie rolled onto her side and reached for it, but Phantom pulled back on the rope-like ectoplasm and she was dragged into the air.

"No!" Danny bellowed as her ankle was freed and she was sent hurtling through the air. He reached out a hand and emitted a flash of green that wrapped itself around her and pinned her against the wall. Another flash appeared, though this time pink, and formed a dome around her. Danny turned to Plamius with a bewildered expression, but it became clear at once that the ghoul had only done it to keep her from interfering.

Or perhaps . . . perhaps he knew deep down who she was.

Whatever mercy Maddie received, Danny knew he was not going to be getting it. The demonic ghoul joined Phantom a second later and threw a red fist at Danny's face. His head collided with the wall behind him, but Phantom's hand was still gripping his shirt. He could feel the flesh burning and knew it would leave a scar.

"Sam, take Jazz and go!" Danny implored, and Sam could tell by his tone that there was no room to argue. She dashed across the lab to Jazz, but Plasmius turned his attention upon them and fired another blast. Sam dropped down to the floor and it flew over her. The wall behind them was obliterated and broken glass from the shelves rained down on them.

Danny took his rivals' diverted attention to his advantage and phased through Phantom's grasp before he could counter it. The ghost turned back to his empty hand and looked down just in time to see Danny's white hair disappear through the floor.

He gritted his teeth and turned around. Danny reappeared behind them, spun around, and kicked out, getting Phantom in the chest. The ghoul was knocked into the ground and Plasmius, who was behind him, had a clear view of Danny as he thrust a green fist forward. His blow had made perfect contact, and Plasmius was thrown back against the linoleum floor.

"Danny, look out!"

Danny turned around and gasped as another Plasmius, undoubtedly a clone, aimed a punch at him. He crossed his arms before himself defensively and caught the ghoul's wrist before it could make contact. Plasmius broke free and then disappeared in a haze of smoke.

Danny looked to the right and then, feeling something from behind, turned left. Plasmius had reappeared. Another movement caught his attention and he looked further left so that he had now completely turned around. The original Plasmius had joined in.

Sam jumped to her feet and called back her blades. In one quick move, she stepped up and tossed it as hard as she could muster.

With a quick sneer, Plasmius sped forward. Danny gasped; his mind raced to figure out his next move, but he was spared when one of Sam's blades flew over his shoulder. Plasmius was caught off his guard, but he managed to turn over in the air and dodge it. Danny turned to the clone and kicked off the ground just in time. The ghoul had charged at him in a glide. It followed him into the air and he threw blast after blast that was either deflected or dodged.

Plamius' arm shot up through the air at him but Danny titled backwards. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He could see the ghoul continue to ascend in a blur over him as he himself flipped backwards.

He completed the reverse summersault and landed upright again rather clumsily, slouched in the air, unbalanced. He lifted his gaze just in time to see another Plasmius fly toward him. Gasping, Danny leaned back again, and he caught the other Plasmius' arm between his ankles.

With a forceful jerk, he thrust him overhead and let go. The ghoul was sent speeding through the air until he made collision with the wall, nearly breaking through it.

Danny rotated through the air once, stopping on his back. He didn't know how many copies the ghoul had made, but he was fighting without conscious control of his body. As fist after fist tore through the air around him, Danny relied only on reflexes to keep them from making contact.

It wasn't enough, however, for Plamius appeared right over him with an unnerving sneer. Danny's eyes widened knowingly when he saw the ghost's arms raised high above his head. His silent entreaty was ignored. Plasmius brought both arms down with violent rapidity, and a blow heavier than anything he had felt that night plowed into his chest. In a split second, he had bolted through the air and collided with the ground fifteen feet below, going through it as if he had crashed into water and sending waves of stone and tile up around him.

"Danny!" Sam bellowed as the rubble came cascading down again upon him. There was no reply, and she gasped in horror.

Phantom settled beside him, and Plasmius appeared before Sam as she had started to run. She stopped almost immediately and covered Jazz.

Phantom reached into the hole in the ground and closed a hand around Danny's shirt. Sam watched in horror as he emerged, raising the ghost of her best friend into the air.

Danny's head was tilted back and his body was limp. His eyes were closed peacefully, and a terrified chill spread through her.

Plasmius laughed at the fallen hero and Phantom tossed him against the wall beside the Ghost Portal, where he slid to the floor like a marionette.

Ice spread through Sam's blood as a cold hand closed around her shirt and thrust her forward. She stumbled to the ground and got back to her feet almost at once with a dignified look on her tearstained face. From behind her, she could hear a loud explosion and turned around just in time to see the Ghost Portal's green glow flicker and die out, leaving nothing but the tunnel within which Danny had first obtained his powers.

Her heart seemed to have stopped beating. The Ghost Portal was their last chance . . . their only way to contact Clockwork and figure out how to go back in time.

And now it lay in ruins, with Danny unconscious and bleeding beside it. She turned amethyst eyes upon Plasmius, and shameless tears flowed freely from behind the mask.

His red eyes lit up with a sickening bloodthirsty exhilaration, and Sam braced herself for what was to come.

She failed.

She had let Danny suffer at his merciless hands once again, when Clockwork made it clear to her that it was _she_ who was destined to set things right. But here she was now, without a clue in the world as to how she was going to go back in time. Her only chance — the only other world into which she could escape — was obliterated behind her. Her best friends were dead, her family, classmates, and fellow citizens were going to end up the same way, and she was seconds away from joining them all in the Ghost Zone for the last time.

Sam watched helplessly as Plasmius' hand flashed red one more time for a fatal assault, but his twisted, fanged sneer and demonic eyes were not the last thing she was going to see. She turned her eyes wearily over her shoulder and they rested upon the unconscious Danny. An apology never made its way past her throat.

How could she tell him he was never going to live again?

The walls lit up in scarlet around her.

How could she tell him that both her friends died saving her, and she could not return the favor?

The rush of wind echoed loudly in her ears and an unnatural heat pressed against her skin.

How could she tell him _that she had lost_?

­­——

_The end of this fic is around the corner — thanks to everybody who stood by it until now, and I'm sorry it took forever for me to update it. So, how will this end? Hopefully well enough to satisfy you, whether the good doods win or not._

_Reviews would be awesome. Thank you for reading, guys!_


	19. Sacrifice

_Wow, last update: 2008. Ouch. I am SO sorry! I have been neglectful. I actually was planning on forgetting this fic until I received a few recent reviews (you guys know who you are =]). I was planning on updating a few weeks ago but I am terrible at time management. SORRY! And thank you!_

**Alternative**

Chapt 19- Sacrifice

A flash. A blinding light was all Sam could register in her peripheral vision as she closed her hand around Danny's. He was slumped against the wall, sticky with blood and eyes closed peacefully. A line of blood trailed from his partly open mouth and Sam had the strangest urge to wipe it away, a small act of nostalgic affection as the final grains of sand slipped through the hips of their hourglass — her hourglass.

"_I'm sorry,"_ she wanted to whisper to him. _"I'm sorry you died to save me. I'm sorry I'll die unable to save you. Unable to save Tucker._

"_I'm sorry I'm such a useless waste of skin._

"_I'm sorry I never got to tell you—"_

"You're giving up. That is not what I instructed you to do."

The voice cut through the air so sharply that all else seemed to stop around it. Haze filled Sam's head and she turned it toward the blinding rays. She felt somewhat sluggish for a second, but she regained composure shortly after a golden medallion was placed around her neck. Relief swelled through her without a moment's pause as she traced the entwined letters "CW".

"Clockwork," she breathed, but the ghost was already placing the same trinket around Danny. He then placed two aged fingers to the boy's forehead and, a brief moment later, his eyes slightly parted in consciousness. They scanned the room fleetingly for a sense of what was going on and then a small smile crept onto his lips.

"You come at the best times," he whispered weakly. Sam laughed in agreement. It was a heavy laugh … almost like pulling lead through her throat.

"You put up a good fight, Danny," Clockwork said quietly as Danny struggled to remain conscious. "And now, it has finally come down to this."

He pressed his unblinking red gaze upon Danny and said, very clearly, "Are you up to facing Vlad Masters and ridding us of this Alternative, once and for all?"

Sam's brows connected over her eyes in confusion. _Danny_? Wasn't it —? Didn't he tell her _she _would be the one to . . .?

The questions swam through her head, cutting each other off. All this time, the pressure had been weighed upon _her_ shoulders, and now here she was, standing there like an idiot while Clockwork asked Danny if he was ready to do the job he had already assigned to her.

But what did she expect? All the doubt, all the fear — Clockwork must have sensed it.

"Clockwork . . ." Danny mumbled, confusion evident in his tone. "I thought — Sam—"

"I told you," Clockwork said calmly, "that when given the choice of who returns, the decision is up to you."

The words felt like déjà vu to Danny, who had heard the exact same thing only a day ago. Though in the way time seemed to be dragging relentlessly these past few hours, it might as well have been weeks ago.

He remembered the words Clockwork had said after those: _"But I already know what you'll choose and why."_

And now it was all so very clear. All those unanswered questions . . . he suddenly realized why it had to be Sam. Clockwork had said, more than once, that he would keep to the ways of the oracle. He would not interfere where he was not destined to do so.

For all Danny knew, the minute he made his decision, Clockwork would be gone, and Plasmius and Dark Danny would be back on the offensive. The spell of time would wear away around them, and whoever was left behind would be the one fighting them.

And that couldn't be Sam.

He looked into the patient red eyes of the ghoul that levitated before him. He would be torn apart by Plasmius and Phantom, he knew it. But he needn't worry about it. There was a chance, a small chance that this world would crumble with him for his sacrifice, and if that were to happen, he would be reborn from its ashes, back into the one that was really meant to be.

"Sam," he said, addressing the nervous girl standing behind his mentor. "It's you. It's got to be you. I can't leave you here. You have to deal with Vlad. I'll stay here and finish this—"

"NO!"

Sam's cry was as sudden as her unexpected embrace. She had dropped down to the floor and wrapped her arms around him.

"Once was enough! You put yourself in my stead before and it—"

Her voice broke off as her lip trembled in pathetic sobs. She turned beseechingly to Clockwork. "Can't you do something? Can't you keep them suspended in time?"

The ghost remained impassive.

"Clockwork, please!"

"Sam," Danny said, gently removing her arms from around his neck. "You're running out of time."

His voice was calm, unafraid . . . and she knew she had no other choice than to obey. He was not going to argue.

"You'll see him again," Clockwork reassured, and Sam turned to him, "… if you succeed."

_If I succeed_.

Then she had no other choice. Stiffly, against her heart's judgment, she nodded. Clockwork returned the gesture, and then he raised his staff.

"Remember what I told you, Sam," he said. A heavy cloud of smoke began to engulf the room behind her. Soon, a suspended Maddie disappeared behind it. Sam placed a violently shaking hand on Danny's shoulder. She felt as if she were heading toward the guillotine, and leaving him behind to a fate much worse. She had no clue what Clockwork had told her, but she could not find the voice to ask.

The haze behind them began to solidify into a swirling purple vortex, and Sam's heart felt a stab of pain at the familiarity of it. Shades of green and lavender swam in rotations where the destroyed Ghost Portal stood. This was it . . . she was going to leave this screwed up world and return to that which should have continued so differently.

She tore her mesmerized eyes away from the whirlpool of time's various dimensions and made her way to one of the Fentons' many destroyed shelves of weaponry. Clockwork watched her phlegmatically as she searched through piles of damaged ecto-guns, spears, bats, containers, and further ghost-hunting contraptions. Finally, her hand emerged from the rubbish with a dual-ended blade that somewhat resembled her own now damaged ones. She examined it and then returned to the pile, but it had no partner. One blade . . . one chance . . . this was all she had now.

Clockwork could only offer a feeble smile as she stepped once more in front of the ominous vortex. This was it. She drew a deep breath—

"Sam," Danny said, pulling himself to his feet slowly. He stumbled slightly and Sam reached out a hand to him. She replaced her doubtful look with an expression of fierce confidence. A little reassurance was the least he deserved now.

"Good luck," he said with a smile that she knew took a lot of strength to show. She swallowed and poured her soul into putting on a bold countenance.

"If luck's all I have to rely on, I'm screwed."

A small and genuine laugh followed that statement before Danny placed a hand to her chin and lifted her gaze so that her lavender eyes faced his luminous green ones.

"Bring me back, okay?" he said, and she, too, passed a small grin.

"I promise . . ."

Her vow was sealed before it even left her mouth. It seemed like the last place and time for it, but when his lips pressed against hers, all worry and doubt shattered around the two. The world on Sam's shoulders collapsed, and she was left weightless.

She played with his lips, full and inviting as they caressed hers. She followed his beat, gently and then fiercely embracing his passion and returning the heat. His hand, ghostly, cold, pale, brushed her skin, but there was a phoenix within her whose warmth consumed it, made it feel human against her cheek. His fingers traveled through silky locks of ebony as she, too, explored the handsome features she had for so long been deprived of. He had grown much from what her fingertips could gather. His boyish face had become much more refined; cheekbones accentuated deeply set eyes, closed now as he melted into her touch. For a second, hot and cold made no difference, human and ghost were one in the same.

It seemed like something that could last forever, but they knew better. Another gentle nudge of his lips on hers and then he slowly, reluctantly, painfully eased away. Sam was left standing on her own, colder and lonelier than she had been in a long time at the premature death of their kiss. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open to capture a blur of dull shades before they came to focus on Danny … all boyishness lost in his burdened but handsomely developed face. He gave her a weak and nervous smile before allowing his eyes to wander elsewhere. It would have been an interesting sight if ghosts could blush. He'd resemble an odd Christmas tree: red, white, and green all mixed into one.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face the ominous swirl of dull colors as Clockwork, taking the cue, announced:

"Time _in_."

But it was Danny's voice that echoed in her mind as her foot disappeared within the abyss, followed by the rest. She felt as if she were plowing her way through thick, dark, water. And then it swallowed her, and she was racing through time against her body's will. But as images of her memory flashed past her, each going further and further back into her past, her eyes remained hollow and dazed. Only one thing was running through Sam's mind:

"_Bring me back, okay?"_

_Yeah,_ a voice resounded in her head, _I promise . . . _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

As if waking from a frozen slumber, Plasmius and Phantom became animate again, and a red blast escaped the former's fingertips and collided with the wall behind where Sam would have been standing if Clockwork had not interfered.

Danny countered the attack with his own, but in his weakened state, he was no match. The two were relentless, and it wasn't long before he was back on the ground, struggling. He turned his eyes upon Clockwork, but the ghost just stared at the grueling scene before him, refusing to interfere.

"Clockwork!" Danny yelled, but his cry was weak and Clockwork ignored it. Danny's eyes returned to the vortex. Why didn't it disappear? "Clockwork!" he shouted again, but the ghost paid him no mind.

His blood was boiling at his mentor's complete betrayal. Why wasn't he helping him? If it was against the oracle, then why was he still here? What more could he do if not stop the ghosts from completely pummeling him or at least get rid of the vortex before they decided to follow Sam?

And to his horror, Plasmius' eye caught sight of it.

"Is that where she's hiding?" he asked Clockwork with a sneer. Danny's unmoving heart seemed to turn to ice in his chest. He knew . . . he knew Sam was gone.

"Yes," Clockwork said, and Danny's eyes widened as much as flesh would allow.

"NO!" he roared, but Phantom had him pinned to the ground.

Plasmius' sneer, however, began to fall, and his eyes showed venom as he gazed at the indifferent Clockwork. It wasn't long before realization struck.

"You—"

"Yes."

"Then . . . then _she_—"

And now Clockwork smiled, and Danny was surprised to see the cool confidence behind it.

"Yes."

The venomous, blood-red eyes turned slowly to Danny, and a look of downright horror was plastered onto the demonic face. He knew he was fighting the wrong man.

Danny stared back, and questions soared through his mind without cease. What on earth was Clockwork up to? Dread pressed upon him as Plasmius took several great strides toward him. His gaze fell upon the medallion. Hunger enveloped the crimson in his eyes that so accurately conveyed his bloodlust.

A roar exploded through the lab, and glass could be heard shattering all around them. Clockwork remained motionless, his arms crossed over his chest, as a blinding light engulfed him and everything else. Danny watched in horror as his body lay frozen on the ground. He was pinned down, but it was an unnecessary precaution. He was paralyzed, all but for his neck and above, which turned to his mentor in disbelief and desperation. He wasn't going to protect him, and realization struck more painfully than the deadly rays that followed.

The medallion lay comfortably upon his chest; Clockwork had paralyzed him.

He let out a cry of searing agony as thousands of unseen daggers ripped through him. Pools of green erupted all over his flesh as it slowly tore away. He was being torn apart from all ends. He had experienced a similar sensation once before, but never had he witnessed every inch of himself being severed in all different directions. He could beg for death to put an end to it all, but that trump card was no longer available.

"_Kill me, destroy me, take me, just end it_," he wanted to shout, but the tormenting cries could not put themselves to words.

If he had died once already, what was happening to him now? Shouts that he had never heard himself emit escaped now from his throat. Clockwork watched, a burdened look in his eyes, as if it made no difference to him that every cell in his young apprentice's body was being split open because he had trusted him enough to let his guard down. Green was clouding his vision. Plasmius now knew how to find Sam, and the temporal bastard had conveniently left the door wide open for him.

Rage subsided as soon as it came. He could hardly feel anymore. Numbness was all that traveled through him, whatever was left of him.

"_Sam. Tucker"_

White light burned their images; it blinded his luminous green eyes.

He could feel the medallion ripped from his neck, and Clockwork's smile appeared freshly in his mind as the last thing he would ever see.

* * *

_Ah, so this should've been longer, but I chopped the rest and pushed it into chapter 20. Long chapters tire readers out, so here's a nice 6 pg one :)_


	20. Beyond Death

_Thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers and readers. Your comments helped a lot! I'm sorry it took a while, but here it is:_

**Alternative**

Chapt 20- Beyond Death

Lavender turned to jade; Sam raised her amethyst eyes to see the darkness of a candle-lit room before her. The tunnel of swirling color was coming to an end. Her heart began to echo loudly in her ears, but her expression seemed calm, exhausted. This was it. This was her last chance to rid herself of the endless heartache.

A shadow on the wall jerked as the ghostly green around her began to glow. A second later, Sam's boots reached solid tile. The vortex behind her, however, did not dissipate. She took no notice and proceeded to examine the room. It was dark, and what she thought were the flames of candles were actually differently colored liquids sealed within tubes lining a long table. A tall figure stood by it.

It was clear by the way he had one hand suspended over a beaker, as if about to pour something, that she had interrupted him.

"Vlad . . . Masters," she whispered, and some of the tension seemed to ebb away. Compared to what she had faced back in the Fentons' lab, he could hardly be considered a threat.

Vlad squinted his eyes to examine the stranger, and both confusion and disbelief were evident in his features.

"Samantha Manson."

To her surprise, he let out a soft chuckle, though it sounded somewhat bitter. He turned back to his ingredients and began pouring a green substance into a beaker already filled with an odd mixture.

"New look, hmm? Or has it been that long since I last saw you?"

"No, Vl — Mr. Masters," Sam began, but Vlad cut her off.

"You are interrupting a very important project of mine, so whatever trick you, Daniel, and that other little brat are trying to pull—"

"Tucker," Sam snarled, regretting her tone immediately.

"—I advise, for your sakes, that you save it for another time," Vlad continued, as if she had said nothing. "Go back the way you came."

But when he lifted his gaze to gesture toward the Ghost Portal, the spiraling vortex behind her was what he saw in its stead. His eyes narrowed in puzzlement, but the anomalousness of the situation only increased his frustration.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"Listen to me!" Sam said urgently. "You have to stop this experiment — _now_. Many lives are at stake, Vlad!"

"What are you talking about?"

His gaze fell upon her left arm, whose veins were now showing traces of the deadly purple-black color of the poison from Phantom's bite.

"You're going to be the first one to face the slaughter!" Sam pressed on, pointing at him with her good hand. "I know what you're doing, Vlad. It won't work. You'll destroy yourself in the process, and the ghost you become will mutate to a severe point of instability. I know how this all plays out. You've got to listen to me."

"What are you ranting about?" Vlad snapped. "I don't have time for your foolish games."

"This isn't a game!" Sam yelled desperately. "I know it sounds crazy, and to tell you the truth I wouldn't have believed it either, but I— I . . ."

Vlad quirked a brow.

"I . . ." she swallowed nervously. "I'm seventeen years old right now."

There was a silence from Vlad's end. Vexation tainted his eyes as he tried to make head or tail of what she was trying to tell him. Then, on insight, his brows lifted in bewilderment.

"Seventeen?"

"The Sam you're familiar with is fourteen. _I_ came here in _that_."

She gestured now toward the vortex behind her, whose lasting presence did not seem to perturb her in the slightest.

To her ever-growing frustration, Vlad regained a voice only to laugh.

"Are you . . . are you telling me that you're from the future?" he said, and heavy mockery stained his words. How could she expect him to accept that? If she had been speaking to herself, her younger counterpart would have suggested she check herself into an asylum. At last, Sam felt Clockwork's plan crashing down around her. He wasn't going to believe her. As the realization struck, she had a sudden urge to just destroy the potions on the table and take him down by force.

And then it all flooded back to her — she remembered what Clockwork had warned her against. She had to find other means to get through the layer of bricks in his head.

"I know it sounds stupid, but I've seen things you couldn't begin to imagine. That experiment of yours, it's a bust. I don't know how anyone can screw something up so badly, but you found a way … again."

She was becoming offensive, but it seemed as though her mouth were running of its own accord. Her mind was telling her to shut up, her motor cortex was telling it to go jump into a ditch. This was it, the thing she'd lost countless days of sleep over: the end.

And she was running herself into the ground.

"Clockwork sent me. He told me I had to go back and stop you."

"Clockwork?" Vlad repeated. The skepticism vanished from his eyes. "Of course he did. The old fool. He's always sticking his nose into matters that don't concern him. So this is the story he's trying to feed me? Trying to scare me out of it, hm?"

"I can't go into the finer details now, but I need your word that you're going to stop this experiment."

Vlad eyed her carefully, as if trying to catch hints of a lie in her eyes. Sam grew nervous under his gaze. It all did seem ridiculous, now that she put herself into his shoes. But if this didn't work . . .

"Get _out_."

His words hit her like an anvil. She felt her heart plummet to her stomach. His gaze was like acid.

"W-What?"

"Get out. This is _my_ warning."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had been steeling herself for this moment, trying to keep her emotions under control, but he had just crossed the wrong line.

"MURDERER!"

Blinded by hate, she disregarded Clockwork's advice and lunged forward. She'd kill him if she had to. He wasn't worth all the lives he was willing to sacrifice. She gave him a choice. He screwed up.

She secured her blade in her hand as she brought it up high over her head. One swing was all it would take to finish this.

She was lifted off her feet and sent hurdling through the air. A loud shatter pierced her ears as a searing pain jolted through her back and she ended up on the floor on her side, clutching her head protectively.

"You're a stupid little girl. Very, _very_ stupid, indeed."

It was something one could envision only in his nightmares. Barring the way between her and Vlad was Plasmius. How did he find her? Her heart was thundering, pumping blood at a painful speed throughout her stunned body. She lay there, like a doll fallen from the shelf, helpless, broken. He couldn't be here. This was her last chance, her _only_ chance.

No. She had to take control of the situation. Sam pushed herself off the floor and sprang back to her feet. She dove for the weapon she had borrowed from the Fentons and held it up defensively before her eyes.

"You want to play games? All right. My move."

There was something unusually demonic about his voice. He sounded hoarse, no longer taunting and jeering. He was ready to kill, no hesitation.

He proved it. It took the flick of a wrist for Sam to be sent hurtling through ripples of wind until her back collided once more with a row of shelves. Her grip on the weapon slackened, but she closed her fingers around it again.

Another rush of air. She looked up and amethyst locked with crimson. Plasmius' hand gripped her throat, leaving red marks as his grip turned vice-like.

"Your last fight." His lips twitched in disgust. "Pathetic."

Sam's fingers raked his, trying to pry the ice from her throat. She could hardly cry out. Her legs were thrashing wildly beneath her, but they merely sank through the ghost whenever they should have made contact.

It was then that she noticed the letters embedded on the golden pendant that rested on his massive chest. _CW._

It was Danny's medallion.

Her insides clenched and a pallor spread through her face, canceling out the redness the blockage of blood had painted. She felt nauseous, petrified, lifeless.

"W-Where's Danny?" she choked, hardly wanting to hear his answer. She could hardly call the curvature of his lips a smile, but whatever it was, it wasn't comforting.

"WHERE IS HE!" she screamed. Desperation filled her lungs. Her fingers tightened against his grip. She wanted to tear him apart. Nothing would have satisfied her more than to see his entrails on the ground, to have her hand on his head and force him to watch as she turned him inside out.

Vlad was visible just beyond the demon's shoulder. A look of wide-eyed horror seemed sewn to his countenance. She vowed he'd be next.

"Gone," the devil's incarnate leered. "Torn to shreds. He wasn't foolish. He didn't bother fighting back."

Sam flipped her spear between her fingers to reposition it and brought it down vindictively into the base of Plasmius' neck. A grunt escaped him and his grip slackened, but his recovery was swift. She forced herself free, but he lunged forward as soon as the heels of her boots touched cold linoleum. She fell into a squat and spun her leg out. He jumped up and dodged it just in time. He thrust his palm through the air and a red aura reverberated from it. It took shape and directed itself toward her exposed forehead. Gasping, Sam threw herself back and landed in a bridge pose on her feet and good hand, looking up at the illuminated ceiling. She flipped over her hand and landed on her feet, her blade several feet away. But what use was it to her now?

There wasn't a thing it could do to terminate the monster before her. What was she doing? Buying time. For what?

"Do you see now? Do you see what you—?"

Her voice died in the air as she looked around. Vlad was gone.

"By the way . . ."

Sam whipped around and drew back as a vast torso met her eyes. She shifted her gaze to his eyes. A fanged sneer shattered his murderous countenance.

"You can thank Clockwork for leaving the portal open for me."

The nausea returned. Sam could feel the chills creeping down her spine. The vortex had dissipated.

"What did you do to him?" she forced herself to ask. Her throat seemed clenched.

The walls boomed with Plasmius' laughter as he drew his head back to mock her.

"You should be asking," he said, "what _he_ did to Daniel."

Sam was spared the sickening confusion that followed his statement; a black-clad fist made direct contact with her face. She felt her neck crack as her body followed her head across the room. She landed in a heap, rolling over several times until she was on her side. Blood was pouring from her nose. He had broken it.

She forced herself onto her hands and knees, coughing relentlessly. A gut-wrenching agony exploded in her stomach and shot through the rest of her body as the ghost's foot made contact. She fell back, screaming and spitting the ominous red liquid. He didn't stop. She was forced to her feet and pounded relentlessly as he held her up with one hand. He was enjoying himself.

_Just kill me_, she tried to say, but she was never given a chance. She didn't know what she was doing anymore. What had happened with Clockwork? She had remembered hearing him say once that he knew how this all played out, and whether or not it ended the way she wanted, he would not interfere with the oracle.

Maybe it was never supposed to end the way she wanted it? Another hit. She was seeing black, and then Plasmius' face appeared once more as a blur.

"Did you really think coming here would make any difference?" he asked. He pulled her closer and spat, "It's my world now, Sam. _Mine_. You're nothing more than just another martyr. I will make your death a very, very slow one."

Another red flare appeared in his palm. She barely had a chance to glimpse it before it made contact with her stomach and sent her hurdling across the laboratory. She landed with a thud on the bloody floor and slid several more inches. Her bad arm was killing her. She could hardly stand, but she made the effort. She had no doubt that he was going to slaughter her brutally, but she wasn't going to go down like a helpless little girl.

She ran forward, barely able to support herself. Plasmius looked amused to see her headed toward him. She reached forward, grabbed her spear off the ground, and lunged at him once more. He brought up his leg and swung a swift kick. He missed the blade, but his retaliation caught her right in the arm. There was a sickening crack as the weapon slid from her hand and a bloodcurdling cry resounded from the walls. She was on her knees, unable to clutch her now broken "good" arm with the poisoned one. With all the willpower she could muster, she sprang back to her feet and scuttled backward. Plasmius followed her, much to her dread.

He threw out another kick and she ducked to dodge it, but as she bent forward to do so, his other leg came up and struck her squarely in the jaw. She was thrust upward and came down on her back. He put his foot on her stomach and then, with ample force, placed a finger on her forehead and let out a small ray of red. It struck her dead center and her eyes nearly rolled back into her head from the trauma. Plasmius chuckled to himself.

Tears escaped her eyes, but she made no noise. Her gaze was fixed weakly on the ceiling.

"You regret it now, don't you? All you had to do was keep quiet and play it smart, and you could have lived a little longer, died so much more quickly, and roamed the afterlife as a ghost."

He lifted his head and drew in a deep, proud breath. "All the things we can do. It's indescribable." His tone shifted and his eyes narrowed. "But I won't leave you whole enough for that."

His head bowed again to look at her. She was gone.

"Wha—?"

A cross between a grunt and a gasp escaped him as the tip of something sharp impaled him from behind. It was pushed deeper.

"Funny thing," she said weakly, forcing it in again as he gagged, "what a kiss from a ghost can do."

He barely managed to turn his head, and there she was, standing behind him, eyes burning a deep shade of green. All signs of injury were gone.

"What the—?"

"You've given me a lot of time to study, Plasmius," she spat vehemently. "Believe me, I never stopped preparing myself for the day I'd meet you again."

She twisted the blade in his back and he let out a stifled howl, but he could do nothing about it. The end of the spear was lodged in his spine and impeded his movement.

"Ever heard of the Reaper's Kiss?" she continued, her voice hoarse but immensely satisfied. "It was something I stumbled upon right after Danny died. If it hadn't been for your ranting about ghosts just now, I would never have remembered it." She smiled feebly. "Thanks."

She scanned the room for Vlad. She could sense him now; it was empowering.

"The Reaper's Kiss, you foul, putrid bastard, is a transfusion of ectoplasmic traces between a ghost and a human. If the ghost is 'killed' after the kiss, the traces left behind are awakened within the receiver." She pushed herself forward, pressing the blade through the ghoul until it appeared on the opposite end, coated in green blood. "Consider it Danny's last will and testament."

Plasmius' cry drowned her last words, but she shed no pity. She jumped back and placed her fingers to her head. When she drew them away, a sliver of green followed. Electricity cackled around the whip-like thread of ectoplasm. She flicked her wrist and the whip came lashing forward, striking the ghost with a loud _snap_ in the face.

Sam felt guilty for the thought, but she couldn't help but hope that Danny had no idea what he was doing when he kissed her. She wanted so desperately for it to have meant more than a simple survival tactic. An invisible grip clenched her heart as another wave of ectoplasm swallowed her hand, waiting to be released. Her newfound abilities were proof of his finality. He was no more, and according to Plasmius, he had gone down without a fight. Maybe he did know . . .

_Plasmius!_

It was as if an invisible hand were pulling at the weapon impaled in him. It was engulfed in red and slowly pulling out of his body. How was he doing it?

She darted forward to push it back in. Danny had 'died' only minutes after the Kiss. So that was all the time she had to use his powers after she awakened them. Time was running out. If he broke free, she'd be screwed.

She grabbed the end of the blade and pushed it against his ectoplasmic energy, but it was no good. Without moving so much as a hand, he managed to pull it out of himself just as she grabbed hold of it. He whirled around and, with difficulty, reached out and grabbed her arm. She spun her leg and struck a blow to his midsection, but he bellowed a cry so forceful she was impacted full in the face and tumbled over cracked tile, landing painfully on her elbow and rolling over several more times before coming to a halt facedown.

"Playtime is over," he hissed, drawing his cloak over himself and reappearing directly before her. Sam, clutching her elbow, scrambled away. He didn't even need to reach out to lift her off her feet. A mere twitch of a finger was enough. She was hoisted into the air. Plasmius unclenched his fists and raised his hand before his face so that she had a clear view of the elongating nails. Sam's eyes widened in terror. He was going to transpierce her.

She drew in a deep breath and then exhaled with a loud scream. The attempt failed miserably. What should have been a mimicked ghostly wail was nothing more than a strain on her vocal cords. Plasmius laughed at her, but she did not give up. She searched her mind for Danny's repertoire of skills, but in the heat of the moment, the only thing that came to her was another blast of energy. Plasmius dodged it effortlessly and then thrust his hand forward. It ripped through the air in hardly a blur. Sam's lips parted in a feeble cry as the claws dug through her. He would have closed his hand inside of her had she not instinctively brought her eyes level to his and—

"EEAAAAAAAGGGGHH!!!!!"

Plasmius tore away from her and crumpled to the floor in anguish. His hand, stained with her blood, was pressed against his eyes. A viridescent trail of smoke escaped the gaps between his fingers. Her eyes, too, were blinking the lime-colored traces of ectoplasm. She was on the floor, coughing blood. Her hand found her stomach and she focused all of her attention on sewing the opened tissue back together. The process weakened her tremendously, but it was a small price to pay.

Plasmius unveiled his eyes; Sam could not refrain from letting out a startled cry. She had burned the red orbs to nothing more than blackened tissue. He was blinded.

He bellowed profanity at her before driving his right arm through the air. It was a messy assault, but the force of the wind and energy that pursued were incredible, much to her displeasure. She ceased her self-recovery and dove down to the ground, shielding her head for what little good it would do.

The miniscule red needles that tore through the air cut through her legs and back, leaving her with the aftermath of the hits even after they began to dissipate. Compared to the pain in her stomach, Sam hardly felt the stress of the attack. She pulled herself back into a sitting position and put her hand back to her stomach.

Nothing was happening.

"_Shit!_" she hissed. Her time had run out. The hand on her wound was no more than a bloody red. There wasn't a single trace of green. She uttered the same vulgarity again before scanning the room for her last hope: the Fentons' weapon. She groaned inwardly. It was several feet away from her adversary, and to go near him now would be suicide. It wasn't worth the effort, she decided. Without at least two, she couldn't even utilize her Duplex Bane assault and shred him to within inches of his essence.

Possibilities streamed through her mind, but not one seemed effective enough to give her a taste of hope. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of quick-paced footsteps a little to her right.

_Vlad!_

The weasel finally emerged. He had doubtlessly taken advantage of Plasmius' visual impairment to flee.

"Where do you think you're going, girl?" the blinded phantom spat as his head whipped around to focus sightlessly upon his former self. Sam's heart plummeted before she could comprehend either the benefits or the consequences of what he was about to do.

For reasons unknown — possibly out of pure instinct — she leapt to her feet and sprinted forward. She swallowed the agony as she brought herself closer to the path between the two men who ruined her life. Her mind failed to register whom it was she was protecting; all she knew was that Plasmius had said "girl", and she had vowed never to let anyone die for her sake again.

She reached a hand out and leaned forward to snatch a shattered piece of glass coated in a sticky, sanguine substance. She titled her torso left as her legs continued to carry her forward. Everything seemed to happen in flashes. Plasmius had closed in on her, his hand gripping her very own blade; how had he…? Panic tightened her chest. Her legs had stopped in time with the rest of her body.

She spun left, thrusting her right arm with all of the force she could muster. The pointed end of the glass, aided by every muscle in her body, closed the space between the two. It seared through the ghoul, burying whatever substance it contained within his neck as it cut the ghostly arteries and let emerald mix with crimson.

There was a scream, but she knew it could not be his. Fangs revealed themselves to her as a nasty grin spread satisfactorily on his lips. His body jerked, but the movement caused shocks of pure agony through her. A guttural noise escaped her throat; she coughed and flecks of blood settled on her lips, her chin.

Slowly, very steadily, Sam dropped her eyes and bowed her head to see the damage that had been done. While her pathetic shard of glass rested in his neck, her very own blade impaled her chest, just missing the medallion that could have stunted the blow. It had passed through her heart and lung, coming out for air on the other side of her.

Liquid filled her throat and again she coughed, this time more severely. Every movement seemed to be killing her over and over again. She was covered in blood, her own blood. Her hand fell limp and rested at her side, mimicking the other one. Her knees gave out and she collapsed, held up only by the traitorous weapon in her combatant's hand.

The world was dissipating before her. Sam blinked, but everything stayed black when she opened her eyes again. She was growing cold…

"_RREAAAAAAAAAARRRRGHH!!!"_

The cry was earsplitting, but whose was it?

Things were shattering around her. She could almost see the glistening fragments of glass raining down around them.

_What?_

Another stab of pain shot through her chest as the blade jerked within her. The wail turned to a howl. Her murderer was screaming. Why?

_Tucker… Danny…_

_I'm so…. I'm so sorry._

Only one would be there to welcome her to the afterlife.


	21. Finality

**Alternative**

Chapt 21- Finality

"I can't believe it. Five weeks of waiting and the day has finally arrived."

_Huh?_

Sam's head was pounding. She was hearing voices, but they sounded distant. Yet (it confused her) they felt so close by. The next few words of their conversation were pushed into her subconscious as a perturbing fact revealed itself to Sam.

She had no eyes to see with, no mouth to speak with, no hands to reach out, no body to maneuver. Somehow, she had a strange feeling she had no ears to listen with either…

"Dude," a voice warm enough to comfort her and familiar enough to bring a deaf laugh to her lips said, "don't jinx it."

If she could gasp, she would have.

"I doubt one's just gonna spring up out of nowhere and attack us at the movies," her voice resounded. She wanted to look around, but that wasn't an option either. Was this . . . _death?_

"And yet that's what always seems to happen . . ."

"So, when are we going to the Dumpty Humpty concert?" It was Danny's voice this time.

_Whoa, serious déjà vu_, Sam commented inwardly. Why did this all sound familiar? An inexpressible feeling of longing surged through her. She felt as though she had been waiting for this for ages. But she had no idea what 'this' was.

Light entered her vision as the voices continued to converse. She remembered vaguely a deep pain in her chest. It was gone now. Was her life flashing before her — well, not eyes, per se? She still wasn't sure she had those.

"Your parents must be so bored now that they don't have to babysit you." Her lips had moved as the voice played out in her mind. She was suddenly aware of her body. It was as simple as turning a page; her confusion had ebbed. She could hardly remember having felt it at all. Thoughts of death were slipping away, slowly falling back into the shadows as if she were waking from a weird dream.

"It's a nice day."

Her head was spinning now. Wind was racing past her. Tucker was speaking but she couldn't hear his words. Everything was becoming a blur.

She felt nauseous.

"Sorry, I just haven't seen many days like this," Danny apologized. "Usually our weekends are—"

"_AAAGH!!!_"

She had opened her eyes to sunlight and it had retaliated. Sam receded in pain, but before she could crouch to the floor, a pair of hands wrapped around hers to keep her up.

"Sam, you okay?"

"Did a bug fly into your eye again?"

She was reluctant to remove her hands from her eyes, but his voice felt so close now. Sam opened her eyes blinkingly and looked up at the pair watching her.

"Tucker?"

Tucker turned to Danny, disconcerted. "Her mom cooked breakfast again, didn't she?" he questioned in a voice that failed to pass as a whisper.

"I-I'm fine," she said, steadying herself as she straightened up. The hands that held her did not let go. She looked to her right.

"Danny."

"Uh . . ."

He blinked and glanced over at Tucker with a look of worry.

"Sam, come on! Can't you find another day to spazz out?" Tucker pleaded. "I promise, if you can hold off until tomorrow, I'll stay at the asylum with you the whole day—"

"Not funny," Danny reprimanded. But when he turned back to Sam he muttered, "If it comes to that though…"

Something about this didn't seem right to Sam. She blinked several times, more for the sake of confirming that the two figures before her were concrete than for means of adjusting to the intense sunlight. She couldn't place it, but a part of her felt a desperate longing for her two friends. She wondered why it felt so weird to be in their presence.

"S-Sorry, the sun got to me. What were you saying?" She had no idea whom she was asking, but Tucker was the first to speak.

"Goths," he said. "Sure you don't need an umbrella?"

"Oh shut up," Sam responded. Danny laughed.

"Right, so if anyone asks, I'm only with you two to escort you to the loony ward."

"Please, you'll be there before we are," Sam shot back. The awkwardness was ebbing away.

"Are you using that thing as an accessory?" Tucker asked, pointing to her neck. Sam looked down. There, resting just below her collarbone was a gold and ridged medallion. "CW" was carved into it.

"What?" she wondered aloud, taking it in her hands.

"Weird. I don't remember you leaving the house with that," Danny remarked.

"I would hope you weren't looking there..."

"_Tucker!"_

Sam was hardly paying attention. She traced her finger around the letters and tried to remember when she had put it on that morning. Nothing was coming to her. Why did she feel so out of place today? She squeezed her eyes shut and focused hard.

Like a hit with an anvil chopped up fragments of unorderly flashbacks pounded her. She was trying with difficulty to grasp them all.

_Danny was . . . missing? Tucker? He was lying on the ground. Clockwork was talking to her._

"One more word Tucker and I'll be flying you home from the inside as soon as the movie starts."

"Don't deny it, man."

They were crossing the street when Danny punched Tucker. The latter stumbled into someone else.

A surprised "Agh" escaped him as he clumsily fell to the ground.

"My bad, dude," Tucker said, offering a hand.

Sam looked up from her jumbled reverie and paused, stricken, on the sidewalk. The boy, their age, was dusting his clothes off. He nodded a curt thanks to Tucker for the assistance and took off speedily, head bowed. Sam's mouth was agape. Her eyes followed the brown hair as he departed.

"Damien?"

She didn't know how she knew him; she had never seen him before. And yet, she felt as though she had.

She didn't know why she was so shocked by the fact that he was alive and walking as if everything was all right. Why shouldn't it be?

Burgundy. The building beside her was burgundy. Sam's heart raced as she turned her head to confirm it. She was right. She hadn't looked at it once and yet somehow she knew its color. She felt nervous standing next to it.

"Guys, let's move. I feel like that building is really unstable."

They knew not to question her anymore and just followed suit. The streets were growing noisier now as they approached the block where the Nasty Burger stood. With a day off from school, their classmates were eager to give the old restaurant business. Another wave of déjà vu swept through her as they turned the block to maneuver around the crowd.

_She had been surprised that Tucker had managed to persuade Damien to come so late. She had gotten into a fight with Paulina. Damien had run to the bathroom. Median had appeared._

_Damien was Median, and Damien was her friend. Sam turned around, eyes wide as she looked for the retreating back of the isolated teenager. He was gone, but Clockwork's words rang loudly in her mind. Damien was the friend she lost to save Danny and Tucker._

_Save from what?_

This wasn't making any sense! No, it was. She was remembering now. Her hand closed tightly around the medallion as she walked, absentmindedly following Tucker and Danny.

"Hey, do we have time to grab a quick bite?" Tucker asked hopefully. Danny looked back at Sam and then at his watch when she didn't reply.

_Clockwork had frozen time just before a flash of red light consumed them. She recalled that quite vividly. Danny was on the floor in his ghost form. They had been given a medallion, but Danny had his taken from him._

"This is weird," came Danny's voice as he prodded his watch. Sam looked up.

_Her medallion remained around her neck when a familiar blade pierced her heart. It failed to act as a sacrifice to deflect the deadly blow. She had died._ She could have sworn it.

"What's up?" Tucker asked.

"My watch. Its hands aren't moving."

He examined it closer and then narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute. Didn't I leave it at your place last Thursday when we went to the pool?"

Tucker furrowed his brow. He looked back down.

"This doesn't even look like it," Danny pressed on, tapping the device again. The hands remained immobile. He turned back to Sam with worry in his eyes. It was the look that read 'Ghost?'

She stared back at him, dumbfounded.

_He died._

She looked around at Tucker. _They both did!_

_Clockwork had sent her to fulfill a task. Could it be that she actually — Sam's eyes widened in amazement as detail after detail of the altered future came flooding back to her— succeeded?!_

She couldn't believe it. She was sure she had failed. The ghost had even warned her that the outcome might not turn out to be in her favor. She had been fatally speared through the chest. But she had heard screaming. She had definitely heard it, and there was the sound of glass being shattered. Perhaps . . . Vlad came to his senses?

And then, as it had all morning, another dose of insight struck her. She knew now why she had to go back on that day. It was the most dangerous day to return — the day Plasmius was able to follow her and impede her efforts. But she was never meant to do more than lead him there. She wasn't supposed to come out of it alive. That wasn't the purpose. Clockwork sent her back on the day of Plasmius' foreseen return to allow Vlad proof of what he would become. She learned firsthand that her simple pleads would not sway him.

She looked back down at the medallion. Was it Clockwork's way of saying 'Thank you'?

"Piece of garbage," Danny snarled, trying to jab the watch this way and that, completely abandoning the thought of checking the phone in his pocket for the time.

"Guys," Sam said, a little dazedly, "let's grab that bite. I'm starving, and we've got plenty of time."

The boys' gazes lingered on her for a moment before turning to one another in surprise. Finally, Danny laughed and shook his head.

"We've had some pretty odd days over the past few months with all the ghosts and other comparable freaks, but this takes it home."

Tucker laughed in agreement. "I promise, we'll seek therapy tomorrow. Right now, I'm hungry." He paused and glanced first at the street and then at his best friend. "Hey, I'll race ya."

"You're on."

And on the count to three from a reluctant Sam, the boys were off, speeding toward the Nasty Burger as Sam followed behind at her own pace. They'd save her a table.

She watched their backs as they grew smaller, feeling a strange heat rising in her cheeks. Her fingertips just barely brushed her lips as one more memory stood out in her mind. She turned a deep shade of red.

She smiled to herself and looked up at the sky. The sun was practically cooking her alive, but she couldn't help but beam at the thought of walking through those glass doors, turning toward the less packed corner of the room, and seeing the faces of the friends who waited for her there.

Just as it should be.

Clockwork observed the trio as they conversed twenty-four stories below him. In his aged hand was a cracked and broken thermos. Its resident had taken permanent leave in a world that existed now beyond time, his only source of protection from its fate resting now in the old Timekeeper's grasp.

He grinned slightly while he watched as a miniscule Danny tapped at his wrist. Just beside him, Sam was clutching a golden medallion, lost in her own world. The ghoul turned his eyes on Tucker, apologetic that he had no souvenir for him other than an intact sense of sanity.

It was tough being a puppet master, the specter reflected as he watched the confusion rotate between the group until the boys came to a conclusion and (Clockwork was not surprised) took off in a race toward the Nasty Burger, leaving Sam in their wake.

He wanted to apologize for everything he put them through, all of the secrets and riddles and tragedies and — the desire faded at once as he let out a rare yawn. It was worth it in the end, he decided, as he turned his back on the young teenagers and held his staff up high.

He was long overdue for a well-deserved rest. And with a twitch from the corners of his mouth, the Timekeeper was gone in a whirl of purple smoke.


End file.
